


20 Years of Thrandolas

by Doitsuki



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Transformation, BDSM, Bath Sex, Betrayal, Blind!Thranduil, Blood Kink, Cannibalism, Corruption, Cross-Generation Relationship, Despair, Dirty Sex, Dom/sub, Epic, Evil, Eyebrow kink, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Food Kink, Gore, Hair Kink, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, I can count three, I really should categorize these tags lmao, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Mindfuck, Multi, Obsession, Onesided Relationships - Freeform, Oral Sex, Pair Bonding, Polyamory, Possession, Reincarnation, Royalty kink, Smut, Suicide, Tent Sex, Throne Sex, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism, War, all the sex, are you ready, blood-drinking, dark themes, dubcon, grandfather/son incest, many pairings exist here, so much magic, stag!Thranduil, that exists later on, that's a thing, uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 225,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Legolas comes home after the War of the Ring, he finds his father already prepared for the news of his death. Thranduil only needs love, and Legolas will give it to him as he always has. What follows is an epic tale of betrayal, possession, lies and murder. This story follows the turbulent relationship between an adventurous prince and his dethroned father. There are also heaps of other Thranduil-centric relations too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1-1 : The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> If you've ever wanted to mix Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings and The Walking Dead, here it is. This fic is a paragraph style RP, the greatest I have ever taken part in. Posting it here is my way of remembering the talented writer I had as a friend, now lost to the winds of fate. 
> 
> This thing is massive. It's got plot twists and so much smut it's sure to tickle your sensibilities! But amongst the elven buttfucking there IS quite a bit of story and sometimes what makes sense in canon is bent. Everything is described in detail. Dagor Dagorath is a thing. Suspension of disbelief is required. Here are your squick warnings:
> 
> Incest, Father/Son incest, cannibalism, blood-drinking, pair bonding (one instance), grandfather/son incest, bdsm, Dom/Sub, Dubcon, Gore, HEAPS OF GORE, uh there is practically everything in here aside from shit, piss, vomit and mpreg. Lmao
> 
> If you can handle the above squicks (notice the lack of noncon), I hope you can enjoy this fic! <3 Prepare your anus. ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡° ) dis gon b GUUUUUD.

His father's kingdom had hardly changed since he had left for the Council of Elrond nearly one year and one month prior. Legolas had blatantly defied Thranduil's will when he joined the Fellowship, but he knew deep in his heart it was what he had to do. Many friendships had been forged, some broken, many lives had been lost, but Legolas remained physically unscathed. He had seen more battle in the last year than many would expect in a lifetime.

Legolas did not want any grand homecoming, so he snuck silently through the secret, winding hallways he used as a child to sneak treats or sneak out of his history lessons. Archery and riding were far more interesting as an elfling, and they still remained more interesting to him to this day. He made certain that no guards would see him. Their posts remained unchanged to this day, so Legolas knew where to find openings to sneak past.

He had traveled days from Gondor following Aragorn's coronation and wedding to Arwen Evenstar without rest. Legolas, typically concerned with his manner of dress (and scent), had changed over the course of the year. He was covered in dirt, dried sweat, and the scent of horses from travel, his silver braids mussed and his face smudged in dirt. If only his father saw him now.

Legolas' stomach twisted in a knot at the thought of his father. He had not left on the best terms with his beloved king and sire, and a whole new cascade of emotions overtook him... anger, longing, bitterness, guilt... happiness at seeing him once more? Fear? Overtaken by thought, Legolas took a wrong turn, one that was completely automatic, into his father's throne room.

Thranduil sat high upon his throne, gazing with unfocused grey eyes up at the carved ceiling above him. Many days he had come here knowing his son would not arrive, for he could be dead and Thranduil wouldn't know. Waiting. Thinking. Regretting. And drinking, as he was doing now. With a glass of wine in one hand and trembling fingers on the other, the Elvenking unleashed a dramatic sigh so great it drew his chest forth in a languid sweep. But when he moved his head to the side, ever so slightly... he saw someone. Not a messenger, not one of his sentries flouncing about where they thought he couldn't see, not one of his terrified guards who had come to dread the days when Thranduil's temper controlled him.

It was Legolas.

His entire face paled, stiff shock taking firm hold of him. Not a day had passed when he hadn't thought of Legolas, his fair elven prince who would never listen and always ache for a life beyond the safety of their kingdom. Thranduil had kept him close. Too close. So strong was his desire to protect his treasured son that it had inadvertently driven him away. Yet it seemed now Legolas stood by the doors, alive if a little disheveled. What could Thranduil possibly say, now that his emotions were bubbling up inside him so hot and ready to burst?

Thranduil remained silent, eyes locked on his son and lips at the edge of his wine glass. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

Taking a few steps forward, Legolas looked up and realized his error. He had wandered into the exact room he had tried to avoid, at least for now. At least until he got a hold of the emotions that suddenly decided to well up inside him. His blue eyes locked with Thranduil's penetrating grey gaze and the fear took a greater hold when he realized he could not read his father. Never once during his journey did Legolas think about the profound effect he was having on his father's mind; the worry, fear, anxiety he was causing the King on a daily basis. Legolas had thought of the ones he had sworn to protect. Now, that had all changed.

He took one step forward towards Thranduil, and then another. Slowly. Pensively. For all he knew was his father could have banished him from Mirkwood while he was gone out of anger at Legolas' decision. Legolas' hands started to shake, and he realized all was lost when he was just steps from Thranduil. He fell to his knee, his hand upon his heart, head bowed. He trembled, and he hated himself for it. It was childish.

"Adar..."

Thranduil did not move, only his eyes flicked down to observe his son's position. The old Sindar elf in him wanted to reach down and hold Legolas close, carry him to the baths, braid his hair and look after him as if they had lost the precious bond Thranduil had worked so hard to attain. But the proud Elvenking side urged him to glare, to speak cool and aloof words of dismissal to this subject who had disobeyed him. His heart yearned for his dear little leaf to fall into his arms and plead forgiveness - but his heart did not control his legs. Slowly Thranduil rose from his throne, a quiet gulp the only sign of discomfort from his slender neck which peeked from the high collar of his long, shimmering robes. He had taken to black and silver in favour of bright greens and reds - even in the spring or summer, he would not gaze upon anything so... So reminiscent of the youthful energy of his son. No. Darkness had fallen over his world, his forest, his very soul. The sight of Legolas was breaking him apart.

"Iôn." he said at length, voice as low and suave as Legolas remembered. Yet he spoke of his son so bluntly - not "my son" or "my dearest" - not any more. Formality and regal finesse masked the Elvenking's fragile emotional state. Legolas could speak for himself.

Legolas had expected to be engulfed in Thranduil's embrace and found himself suddenly longing for those strong arms to wrap around him once again and reassure him. He suddenly found himself desperately missing how things once were. Over the course of this year felt as though he had aged a millennia, but somehow his father always made him feel a need that never diminished.

The words, although they dripped like honey off of the King's lips, hit Legolas' ears like ice. He raised his eyes to meet the King's and then found the strength to stand again. He felt the urge to apologize, to drop to his knees once again and beg Thranduil for forgiveness, but he stood strong before him. He felt hurt and anger start to well up inside once again and his blue eyes narrowed, his own voice short and his tone curt.

No. He would not apologize. What was there to apologize for? He had helped saved their home. Sauron was no longer a threat. Kirkwood was safe and would flourish again.

"Is this how you welcome your only son home?" Legolas dared. He was not so adept at masking his emotions. He was certain Thranduil was reading him like an open book and he intended for it to be so.

Indeed, Thranduil could read Legolas as if he were a sheet of parchment stretched out on the wall. He could sense pain and hostility, though whether it was true or not he had no idea. Quietly he raised the glass to his lips and drained it in one fluid motion, moving to set it on the armrest of his throne. Both his hands folded neatly behind his back, which he kept forcibly straight to exude an aura of complete confidence and majesty. Long had the Elvenking grown masterful over his emotions. Shorter was his fuse if Legolas chose to disrespect him.

"What would you have me do?" he murmured, walking to the right side of the room which, like the left had a massive window framed by curling branches and delicate swirls. "Had I been informed of your arrival, I surely would have had something prepared." Looking out over his kingdom, Thranduil could see evil receding from the forest with his own eyes. Yet Mirkwood was not so eager to become the Greenwood once more; having fallen under the spell of Thranduil's grief for far too long. There was no more decay - but rather, a lack of growth. Thranduil did not like change. Nor did he approve of confrontation.

Awaiting Legolas's answer, he could see it had begun to rain, a coldness taking the room into deep chill. The throne room was the highest point in the Woodland Realm, carved into the top of the mountain with a steep decline of rock leading to balconies and such on the lower levels. Thranduil wondered when he would be able to take Legolas through the palace to their secret little viewing platform, where one could gaze with keen elf-eyes all the way to Erebor and wonder about a life outside that could have been. Or maybe he would be told of his son's adventures, and vow never to let him go again.

Legolas moved over to his father's throne, taking Thranduil's now empty glass and filling it with what little there was left in his decanter. His taste for Dorwinion wine was not as strong as his father's, nor as refined, and being on the move for so long had introduced the Prince to many a beverage. He was no longer so picky. He tossed back what he had poured, feeling the need for something much stronger, and at the same time savoring the delicacy of his father's choice. It had been a long while since he had tasted this particular type of drink, and memories of sharing many a glass with him came flooding back.

The chill of the room took hold, and Legolas moved to stand beside Thranduil. His gazed drifted over the forest and then back to the King. "I wanted no grand welcome from our people... I was not looking for horns or dancing or merrymaking." Legolas felt he did not have to say he expected more from Thranduil, and was too stubborn to say he wanted more from him, though that much was obvious. The warmth of the wine moved through him and his anger dissipated for the moment. He reached up to rest a hand upon Thranduil's shoulder, his fingertips lightly drawing over the elaborate silver and black brocade, feeling the design beneath his fingers.

"These are not your colors." His lips turned into a slight smile, his blue eyes softening. "You look like you were preparing for a funeral. Perhaps I should have sent word to Mirkwood."

Thranduil twitched at the hand upon his shoulder, and turned his head a little so the silken sweep of his silvery hair poured over his son's fingers. It took much from him to keep his movements precise - his head felt so light it could separate from his shoulders and soar into the clouds at the slightest motion too quick. What had that been, his fifth glass in the past hour? Only now did the wine start to affect him. Damn his natural tolerance, he would surely look a fool before Legolas now if he could not portray his usual grace and elegant mannerisms.

Thranduil knew he had not reacted as Legolas had _wanted_. His emotions were a mess, half drowned and sorrowful as they were. Preparing for a funeral? He was only waiting for the news - then, it would be his own. He was dressed to go to the halls of Mandos and wait to be reborn, a beautiful creature cloaked in darkness who could see no light without his son. Since Legolas had left, Thranduil had awaited death. He never thought his son would return.

Further he turned his head, until his blurred vision took notice of soft blue eyes gazing at him. Legolas had grown a little taller, he looked so mature... and he had survived something many in their realm were loathe to speak of. Like his father, he had seen the horrors of Mordor - the land so evil its memory dimmed the light of the sun.

He did not realise he was crying until the unfamiliar taste of salt reached his lips. Silently he stared, eyebrows floating without expression atop his faded grey eyes.

_Yes, you should have sent word. Should have let me know it was okay. That you had survived. That I still had a son to call my own._

Thinking could not speak aloud, but it would do for Thranduil who'd had many a conversation with a mental construct of his son. Words would not leave him, his throat felt oddly tight, and he was unbelievably close to breaking down...

Legolas watched Thranduil's silken silver hair cascade over his hands and he reached up to lightly touch a lock, running his fingers downwards over the smooth strands. He inhaled the sweet headiness of his father's scent and he felt grounded again. His anger was diminishing. Who was he to blame his father for this? Legolas openly disobeyed his orders, and never so much as sent a raven or any word back home.

He felt his heart tear as he watched Thranduil's grey eyes cloud over with grief, the first open sign of sorrow that Legolas had caught upon his arrival. Thranduil had always been so cool and collected, each emotion, word, and action so deliberate and controlled. They were night and day, father and son. Legolas thought with his heart and acted upon every whim without thought or reason. His temper would flare, he would lash out without meaning to. Legolas had been faced with death too many times to count over the course of these dark months, and he found that he had grown more cynical, a little colder, and began to bottle up feelings that had no outlet.

 

Legolas hadn't seen Thranduil cry since his mother passed and did not know what to do. Thranduil had always been his rock. He reached out, gently cupping the king's face in his hand and bringing his forehead towards his own. It was then that Legolas realized his fault. Thranduil was fading, and preparing for death himself. Lightly pressing his lips to the King's salty tears, Legolas whispered, "I am so sorry, Adar... I... shouldn't have said that."

There it was, the apology he vowed not to speak.

Thranduil closed his eyes, long dark lashes sweeping down to hide what could only be identified as a sleepless misery. Day and night he had pined for his son, face grim and posture stiff as he waited. Now he could hold Legolas once more - and wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the prince, caring not for his unkempt appearance or weariness from travel.

The naturally eloquent Elvenking found no words to express himself, for it had been far too long since he'd ever had to speak to anyone on such a personal level. Many things he wanted his son to understand - it would be so easy had they bonded with each other and opened a connection between their minds. But Thranduil didn't have the strength for anything remotely magical at the moment - nonexistent words and close contact would have to do. His hands clutched at the back of Legolas's tunic, pulling the lithe body before him so close it was as if he planned to absorb his son. And he thought nothing of how intimate they seemed, his lips slightly parted in an attempt to whisper something. It came out in a long, slurred mess of feelings long restrained - but held more weight than anything Thranduil had ever said in the past.

"Never.... leave me... again..."

Thranduil did not have to speak for Legolas to feel each emotion the King finally embraced him, his arms strong and tight around him. Legolas found safety in those arms, comfort, and the overwhelming sense of release crept around his being. Thranduil was terribly protective, and the adventurous part of Legolas had once felt smothered by the net of safety the King had woven around him. It had taken centuries for the Prince to realize that the overly protective nature was out of fear and love, and though many might say the Elvenking feared nothing, those who were allowed to see far more deeply under the facade of steely control would realize that fear of loss is what drove some of his actions.

Before Thranduil could speak another word Legolas pulled the King in tighter still, his strong fingers firmly holding his jaw and closing the distance between their lips. The kiss was fierce and swift, as Legolas could give no direct answer to Thranduil's demand. How could he promise such a thing? Certainly, they were safe for now, but how long would it last? How long before they were both taken into battle again?

Pulling back slightly, Legolas traced the trails of tears down the King's cheeks and there it was, a rolling wave of sobs fell over the Prince and his forehead fell to Thranduil's shoulder. He had never truly feared for his own life before now. Never had feared for his father's. There were many friends he had lost and the thought of separation eternally was too much to bear.

Thranduil barely had time to register his shock as he felt Legolas crumble into a pile of emotions on his shoulder. Unable to hold himself up let alone his son, he stepped back and leaned against the window which vibrated with the force of the heavy rain outside. The forest's weather mimicked Thranduil's emotions sometimes, and he was sure that was now happening.

"S..shhhh... do not cry, A'maelamin..." he whispered, for he hated to see Legolas so upset. Worst of all he knew it was his fault for letting his composure slip. Already he was beating himself inside over how weak he was, and how this was no way for a king to behave. Alas, he was an elf. And one with a tender heart at that, one who could not withstand such emotional torment for long. Stoicism and fearless surety had hidden his sensitivity for long - but if observed closely enough, one could see an unmistakable flash of hurt in his eyes whenever he was insulted or his persnickety mannerisms mocked.

The two elves were alone in the throne room, the place for private counsel within the palace as opposed to the more open, raised platform in the centre of the Woodland Realm. There were no guards or servants about, and it seemed nobody but Thranduil knew of Legolas's arrival. _Let it be so_ , he thought. Let them stay like this, the king with his back against the window and the rain echoing throughout the room, his dearest son wrapped up in a tight embrace he would not escape so easily.

The thunder began to roar and the winds were so strong outside the window that the great trees of the forest swayed, bending to their power. One hand pressed against the King's chest, above his heart, the other pressed to the window for balance, Legolas was thankful that Thranduil was strong enough to hold him up. He had not felt such a great release in many months, all of the pain and sorrow he had experienced had remained bottled up deeply. It had to be that way. When everything else fell apart around him, he had to be strong for those who could not be strong enough for themselves. It was too much weight, too much power upon his shoulders.

A loud crack of thunder sounded and seemed to shake the entire palace. The throne room lit up and Legolas raised his eyes to the King's once again, calming himself. This was no way for a Prince to act. Especially a son of Thranduil Oropherion.

Reaching up, Legolas traced the outline of his father's lips with his fingertips, calloused from travel and battle. He forced a smile upon his lips, hoping to take the pain from Thranduil's eyes, to ease the pain upon his heart.

"I think we will need some more wine, Ada. Tonight should be a celebration, after all."

In truth, Legolas had no desire for any besides Thranduil to know of his return. Tonight, and for forever, he wished to be his father's prince, and no one else's.

"The Dwarves have proven to be rather poor drinking companions."

Thranduil could see what Legolas was deciding to do, and was grateful for an opportunity to ease their mood.

"You will always have me, if ever you need someone to share a drink with." said he, though fairly tipsy with a concentrated effort to articulate his words. "I shall... send for some more wine. Come, let us go somewhere more comfortable...." Still hugging Legolas, Thranduil attempted to straighten up and only succeeded in flopping over his son's shoulder, hands grasping for something to hold onto in case he fell. Quickly he removed his hands from the soft butt he'd _accidentally_ grabbed, and sheepishly smiled at his prince.

Sobering up was not a thing Thranduil was used to, having drifted in and out of a pleasant haze for all the years since he lost his wife. Wine had been the only thing he could rely on to soothe his agonised mind - as such, he could not remember the last time he had been perfectly clear-headed in a thousand years. Without a glass of something strong in his hand, the Elvenking would be practically impossible to talk to - all smirks and glares, snark and orders. Unfortunately, he'd had a little bit too much this particular evening to be in any condition for a walk - even if it was just the short trip to his chambers.

"Carry me." he muttered, something like a demand from a small child. Oh, if Legolas had seen him as an elfling. Surely nobody in Middle-Earth could withstand such a bossy, adorable thing.

Now, Thranduil was making the exact same face he would have done if begging for the last piece of pie when he'd clearly been told he couldn't have any more. Legolas was his sweet little prince. Surely he would indulge his father's request?

Naturally, being Thranduil's son, Legolas had taken developed a keen taste for fine wine although he did not partake in it as often as his father. However, the sound of being particularly indulgent tonight was very tempting, and he cocked an eyebrow at his father's request and snorted, laughing.

" _Now_ who is the Princeling this eve?" He teased, his knees buckling slightly under the Elf King's weight. "Valar, have you gained weight?" He couldn't resist such a request. Thranduil was practically pouting and Legolas was reminded of how things were before they left. When Thranduil could reveal a carefree side and could smile again. Legolas slapped at his father's hand as it trailed down his backside and hissed, unable to keep himself from chuckling, his voice like silver bells echoing upon the air. "Are you certain you need more wine?"

He saw a part of the King none ever so much as dreamt of. Legolas wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist as they made their slow, slightly tipsy trudge to his father's chambers, where, in the last several centuries, Legolas spent far more time than in his own.

The Halls were thankfully empty on their short trip, so Legolas could remain just Legolas tonight. His beloved father's and nothing more. Like everything else in Mirkwood, Thranduil's was impressive. It could easily fit a small army of Elves. Legolas gently eased his father onto the bed and moved to the bedside where a glass carafe filled with wine sat. There was a single empty glass and Legolas filled it to the brim, careful not to spill as he tossed it back. He refilled it to his father and collapsed down beside him, offering it to his lips.

Thranduil giggled at the comments Legolas made - he did feel like a princeling himself and actually _did_ gain weight from the fact that he'd eaten nothing but sweets every day for the past year. "One can never have enough wine..." he sighed, letting Legolas guide him through the dimly lit halls of his realm. Much was he reminded of the time when he could barely see, and needed Legolas to describe things to him - sometimes holding his hand - until he could cope with half-blindness on his own. That could possibly have contributed to Legolas randomly stating the obvious every now and then. Yet he was glad for his son's assistance, and the relief that came from not having to lead himself for once.

However, Thranduil recognised he route they took to his chambers and was laid down on his bed so gently it was almost like his own father was looking after him again. When he felt the glass at his lips he drank almost automatically, perhaps a bit too eager as a light trickle of red spilled from the corner of his mouth. Thranduil didn't even care, both he and Legolas needed some time alone in the baths before they could even begin to tell the tales of their time apart. Less-than-perfect cleanliness didn't matter now. Licking his lips, he leaned on Legolas with a trail of faint red stickiness crawling down the side of his neck, one arm loosely laying by his son's waist.

Legolas' eyes could not help but follow the single rivulet of crimson that traveled down Thranduil's neck. The wine helped make him feel uninhibited, and Legolas leaned quickly to catch it before it stained the rich green silken bedding beneath them. His tongue darted out and followed the length of the King's graceful neck, shivering at the combination of sweet and savory of his flesh.

He sat up slightly, kicking off his leather boots and refilled their shared glass. Legolas moved his head slightly so Thranduil could see him and gave a wicked smile. It amazed even him that such a familiar place with such pleasant memories could help erase any and all pain felt throughout the entirety of thirteen long months, even if but for a small while. "I think the rest of this shall be mine." Legolas purred. "You've had your fill."

Thranduil groaned heavily at the feeling of Legolas's warm tongue upon his neck, eyes closing and face relaxing into something like this.

****

"Ahhh..." he breathed softly and shifted closer, until he was sitting in Legolas's lap by the time it was declared he would not be having any more wine. "No... _Mine_.." he echoed his son's words, watching helplessly as Legolas took a sip of the wine, a ridiculously enticing smile on his face the king just wanted to steal for himself. And so, with no restraint keeping his desires at bay he did. He stretched his body as best he could until his lips pressed against Legolas's, nibbling and licking with eyes shut once more as he enjoyed the sweet taste.

Legolas tossed back his glass as the shifting on the bed was becoming quite the treacherous situation for his wine. He continued to hold it above Thranduil's head but nearly dropped it as that wickedly sweet mouth attacked his own. He somehow managed to find the table at the bed's side and carefully placed it out of harm's way. The wine and the company brought a strong flush to Legolas' cheeks. He did not remember his father's drink being so... strong.

 

The Prince felt need begin to overtake him. It was palpable and all-consuming. He did not know what overcame him, but Legolas found himself sitting atop his father's lap now, his fingers fumbling for the clasps of Thranduil's robes. Legolas was an adept and skilled lover, but the time away from the Elvenking made him feel like an inexperienced fledgling. His blue eyes were dark with lust and he savored the sight of Thranduil beneath him.

 

Legolas traced the pale bit of skin that he revealed to himself with his fingertips, dancing across the soft flesh. In this room, no one would dare disturb the King. Restraint was thrown to the wind as the storm continued to rage outside the window.

"Melethron..."

Legolas wanted Thranduil, badly. It had been far too long since he shared this intimate of a touch with another. The wine was making him feel clumsy, and he wanted to be sharp of mind and body when they were to rediscover each other once more.

"Valar, it has been too long."

"Indeeeed..." Thranduil sighed, his skin tingling with anticipation as he felt Legolas's slender fingers trail across his chest. Long had he forgotten how wonderful it was to have another's gentle touch on his body. Looking down at himself for a moment, Thranduil blinked. He was still a beautiful creature of soft angles and lovely curves, something enticing he had not even thought to lay his hands upon in centuries. Celibacy was now tossed away along with any signs of modesty.

"Avo dharo... Heltho nín." he whined quietly, asking for Legolas to not stop what he was doing, and strip him. His robes clung to his body and outlined his form closer than ever before, especially now that he was wriggling a little to expose more of his heated skin. Lust was a powerful thing that burned Thranduil's mind like nothing else, though he barely knew what he was doing as his hand smacked Legolas's butt as if urging him to get them both naked as soon as possible. Most if not all relations like this, the Elvenking had experienced in a drunken haze. If he ever took a lover sober, his heart would be wrenched by the guilt of disloyalty.

Elves were not meant to find love twice. Thranduil had taken so many servants in false courtship to fill the void of his desire, he simply could not bear to keep count or memory. Now though he was presented with his own flesh and blood, Legolas the fair prince sitting in his lap with a smouldering gaze he could feel searing a blush all the way to the tips of his ears. By the Valar, he was so ridiculously beautiful Thranduil could not wait a second longer.

The first time they had made love Legolas had not known how to feel. It had been a furious and passionate ordeal to start, followed by slow and delicate exploration of the other's body. Their intimacy was forbidden, punishable by death and far worse things than the Prince would even want to consider. He had been overcome by crushing guilt and confusion for what Thranduil made him feel. The King was his father, his flesh and blood. But the way he had made Legolas feel was something far stronger and deeper than anything the lovers he took to bed with him made him felt. The first time, Legolas was certain that both he and Thranduil had just had too much wine, that neither was thinking clearly, and perhaps Thranduil had mistaken him for one of his many companions that he took to his bed. Legolas had felt disgusted by himself that he had enjoyed it all so much, the feeling of unbridled passion as he submitted to every touch and command the King had given him as though he was a common whore. But he continued to come back for more, seeking someone to fill the void in his heart that only the King could.

Thranduil flushed from chest to ear tips and Legolas delighted at the sight, feeling himself pulse against his leggings. He removed his own tunic, pushing the heavy robes from Thranduil's shoulders as he worked on the lacings of his leggings. Soon, they were pressed against one another, not a single scrap of clothing between them. Legolas was nearly undone at that single touch and he bit his lip, tensing each muscle in his body to keep from ending this sweet torment too soon.

Perhaps this love, this craving for Thranduil was some wickedly delicious form of narcissism. But at this moment, Legolas cared not for the judgment of the Valar. In this place it was just he and Thranduil, Valar be damned. Leaning over Thranduil, the tips of his hair brushing over the King's throat, Legolas tugged roughly at his lower lip, purring against his flesh. "Your guards will know you were not alone this night." He ground his hips down into Thranduil's.

Perhaps Legolas had been amongst Dwarves and Men for too many months, losing some of the grace of his people in his language. "Fuck me, meleth nin..."

Thranduil's hips raised and slid his heated lower body along Legolas's closeness, already craving to possess him fully and tell him who he belonged to. The king was very possessive and got even more so during such intimate moments, now taking firm handfuls of his son's ass and squeezing appreciatively at the tight muscle he could feel beneath smooth skin. His long fingers trailed all the way up to Legolas's shoulders, then dipped down over his arms as one hand drew close to Thranduil's face. Intending to be seductive and succeeding in some way, he slowly pushed his index finger between his lips and sucked on it, despite being a little sloppy with an embarrassingly obscene sound following it. That finger found its way back down to the prince's rear and poked around, finding its goal in quivering heat within seconds.

"I lebid nîn egor i baur nîn?" he slurred, asking if Legolas wanted his fingers or his fist. All the while his finger teased where it rested, slick and neatly manicured with a nail so short it could not possibly scratch anything. While he awaited Legolas's answer, Thranduil began to lick long wet trails from his son's neck all the way to his ear, where his teeth nipped and breath came in soft gasps. The contact between them had greatly aroused Thranduil, so much that he was wriggling slightly to obtain as much friction as possible.

He knew Legolas needed a good old fashioned pounding into the sheets, and honestly didn't think of what his guards might say if they overheard him. The door to his room was sturdy oak, made to endure but not to block out sound. One mistimed cry and their secret would be revealed.

Legolas sucked his breath in through his teeth as Thranduil teased him mercilessly. He pressed back against the King's finger as it teased his hole, sliding his own finger from Thranduil's mouth and painting his lips with the wetness that coated it. This was far too much and Legolas was becoming impatient. "Pathro nin!" He growled, perhaps bit too loudly in his lust, demanding the King fill him with whatever he desired. Something, anything. He loved Thranduil more than anything in this world, but at this moment in time was cursing his name as he continued to prolong this sweet torture. "Anything... everything. I need _you_."

 

He moved his mouth over Thranduil's neck, his lips, teeth, and tongue working hard to ensure he marked the King just above the high collar of his robes so as anyone close enough would capture a glimpse. It sparked curiosity and Legolas found that as time passed, he wanted more to question Thranduil, to question Legolas as to why he had not chosen a mate. He was well past the age to do so, but Legolas merely flirted with the idea, and any lucky ellon or elleth who managed to capture his attention could only dream that a relationship would span longer than a single night.

"Meleth nin..." Legolas moaned, his hands clawing at Thranduil's chest, his nails lightly marking him. "Pathro nin."

Thranduil's pale flesh marked very easily and he found his languid teasing becoming a much stronger pushing at Legolas's entrance with every touch against his body. Quickly he removed his hand and used it to grip his son's hips, angling him with the long spear of his erect length. Thranduil could not coordinate himself to do any proper fucking now, his body would not listen and merely respond to whatever stimulus it received. How tense he was, shivering in acute desire with concentration and wanton lust written across his face!

"Melo nin..." he commanded, eyes half lid as he released Legolas to drop down onto him. He had asked for his son to make love to him, as he felt so light and sensitive it was as if he would break under too much force. Then again, he had liked it rough in the past. They would just have to be...quiet this time.

Legolas' eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back as a low, rumbling groan spilled from his lips. He pushed himself back hard, sheathing himself upon Thranduil's length. The Elfking filled him so fully and completely, and Legolas knew that despite the rather restrained lovemaking they both would have to endure for the sake of secrecy, he would not last long. His body seemed to have a mind of its own at this point, and Legolas eagerly obeyed Thranduil's command.

His eyes never left Thranduil's face as he rode at a languid pace, rolling his hips and contracting his inner muscles, watching him come undone. Legolas reached down to touch himself, stroking first slowly, then faster as he lost himself in these moments. It was not long before Legolas spilled himself into his hand, forcing himself down hard onto Thranduil's shaft with a ragged sob of pleasure, his entire body covered with a light sheen of sweat and shuddering.

Yet another crack of thunder sounded, followed by the pounding of a fist on the heavy oaken door, nearly drowned out by the sound of the storm still raging on.

Thranduil shrieked like a cat that had been stepped on as he released within Legolas, a coinciding crack of thunder masking his voice. He barely had a moment to take in the ravishing beauty of his son before his sharp elven hearing picked up the sound of a knock amongst the rain outside and his own heart thumping in his ears.

"Urghhh..." he groaned, eyes rolling back into his head as he sat up with Legolas still impaled on his length. Why could he not simply sit back and enjoy a blissful moment like this, the only positive relief he'd had in the past year? Oh well. At least the elf outside knew better than to open Thranduil's door without permission, lest they lose their head in an instant. And he'd left it unlocked, forgetting completely about privacy half an hour ago. Just as he was thinking to hide Legolas the knock came again - Thranduil was so close to screaming "FUCK OFF!" he would have done so had it not been for the slick motion of Legolas slipping off his shaft.

Shakily getting to his feet with an apologetic look, the king pulled on one of his thick silver robes and tied it around his waist. The room spun, causing Thranduil to stagger in delirium to the door which he flung open, leaning his weight against it. He did not feel so light any more.

"Whaddya want?!" he snapped, furrowing his dark eyebrows together as he squinted at the guard.

It took Legolas more than a few moments to comprehend what was happening when the knocks fell. It was like some very rude, unwelcome awakening from a rather pleasurable dream. Gone was the possibility of post-coital bliss in his lover's arms and Legolas gave a grunt of protest as Thranduil made himself decent and opened the door. With the swiftness that Legolas did not realize he had after drinking, he rolled silently off of the bed and moved beneath it, out of sight from any prying eyes. This was no position for a prince, hiding like some unwanted pet a child hid from his parents, but so was the nature of this game they played.

The guard stiffened as the door was flung open, revealing a slightly disheveled, incredibly irritated Thranduil. He bowed deeply, raising his chin slightly to gaze up at his King. "Sire... Tauriel's company returned this eve without her. They lost her in the night on patrol. There was no sign of her. It's as if she... she vanished." The guard was realizing just how absurd this was sounding and he found himself babbling to the point he thought Thranduil would strike him. Since the Prince had left for Rivendell, Thranduil had been incredibly rude, sour, and irrational. He had heard sounds down the hall coming from the King's chambers. He had tried to wait until the sounds had died before he interrupted, lest he lose a hand or worse for coming between the Elvenking and his suitors. The guard's eyes wandered into his chambers to the disheveled bed, but no elf was to be seen. Strange. His eyes darted back to the King's, hoping that Thranduil had not caught the drift.

Thranduil was neither alert nor collected enough to take in the mannerisms of his guard, which normally would've gone scrutinised to no end. He really loved to watch people squirm under his infallibly logical arguments - but now he was not making any sense of what he was being told.

"You what?" Thranduil spat his words as if ridding his tongue of poison, foggily recollecting everything he could as to why the hell Tauriel had suddenly disappeared. "This is some... Illuminati bullshit..." he muttered "She can't just... Vanish! Go out and look for her! I will search tomorrow..." He was making a face like he'd just inhaled a lemon, squinting further at the guard with cold grey eyes narrowed into slits. The King's temper was honestly quite frightening on a regular basis, but when drunk he was prone to lashing out with lightspeed reflexes nobody could dodge.

Many a guard in the past few months had been on the receiving end of Thranduil's sharp bitch slaps, even a punch to the face at the mention of Legolas when it was clear Thranduil had lost all hope. This particular guard he did not recognise - it was not one of his royal guard folk that stood by him in the throne room, sworn to protect his life - nor was it one of the wise military elves who wore their armor everywhere to shield from Thranduil's anger. "Who are you, anyway?" he grumbled, tugging at a lock of the guard's hair in irritation. "I don't... Want to see you bothering me again."

"Sire?" The guard murmured, flinching at each word the King spat. After losing a bet with the other guards, he had been the unlucky one who had to break the news of the disappearance of Thranduil's Captain of the Guard to the King. "My name is Tinion, my Lord..." It was then that Tinion realized how vulnerable he was beneath the King's scrutinizing, albeit intoxicated gaze. If anything the Elvenking seemed even more threatening now, and the guard used this time to bow swiftly, taking a step back from the open door. "I shall send some one to search for her immediately..." And with that Tinion turned on his heels and practically ran down the hall and out of sight.

When Legolas was certain that the guard was gone, he rolled from beneath the bed and stood, pulling his leggings back on and lacing them up as he moved to where Thranduil stood... or rather, where he was leaning heavily on the chamber door for support. "You did not have to be so cruel to him... he looked green. You probably frightened him out of Mirkwood."

His brow was furrowed in thought, and he wrapped his arms about the King's waist, slinging one heavy arm across his shoulders to pull him away from the door so that they could remain closed off from the world outside.

"Tauriel is a skilled warrior. She would not just up and run without reason..." The elf captain had been taken in by Thranduil as a child, raised amongst warriors after she was found alone and bloodied, her parent's recently slaughtered by orcs. She had grown up as Thranduil had raised his own son, and had proven herself to be a competent warrior, gaining enough of the King's trust to be selected as the Captain of Mirkwood's Guard, and for a very brief time caught Legolas' attention as well.

But now Legolas stood wondering what had actually happen. The spiders had receded upon destruction of the One Ring, and though the occasional orc still wandered past their borders Legolas was certain any of those creatures would have caused her trouble enough to keep her from returning home.

Thranduil didn't think he'd been cruel at all, blind as usual to how his own actions affected others when he was in such a state. Before he could say anything against Legolas's words he was dragged back to bed where he all but collapsed, hair spreading in a luxurious puddle around him upon the silken sheets. He contemplated his son's thoughts on the matter. Tauriel indeed knew what was up; she was not one to be taken hostage by orcs or slain by spiders so easily. And both of those were so few in their realm nowadays, the most any elf had to worry about were others in Middle-Earth using their forest as a highway and the occasional feral creature at night.

"R...remember that one time... she ran away to couple with a Dwarf?" he grinned stupidly, looking a little cross-eyed. "I bet she.. She had a dream or something and forgot her duty for loooooooove." His hand reached for Legolas's face and lazily stroked down to the prince's waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of those tight green leggings. "She never.... listened to me. I don't think she likes me at aaalll..." he drawled as if the world was going to end, always fond of dramatics regardless of how drunk he was. "I'll go tomorrow. Bring her back. Mmn."

Thranduil's eyes slipped closed and his smile faded into a sigh, lips parted a little and arm falling loosely to his side. Elves didn't 'sleep', but after the day's events Thranduil just wanted to rest and regenerate his energy. Normally he wouldn't even feel this tired - he would have passed out long ago.

Legolas snorted. He never really understood Tauriel. She was tough and a more than competent fighter, but for some reason a Dwarf was able to just sweep her off her feet with some crude reference for what was in his trousers. He shared his father's hatred for Dwarves for the longest time until some months with the Fellowship. Gimli was his companion, and eventually was one Legolas could truly call friend. It would take some time for Legolas to admit to Thranduil that he had an inkling of respect for the Dwarves. Well, perhaps just that Dwarf in particular. Most of them were rather disgusting. Much too hairy for Legolas' taste... unattractive and short in stature.

Legolas watched as Thranduil's eyes unfocused in his intoxicated state and smiled to himself as he watched his father completely relax. All was as it should be, back in his father's arms. It had been the first time in many months since he had slept in a bed as comfortable as this, most of the time "sleep" involved nodding off while keeping watch, or finding a soft spot on the forest floor or in the trees. He was grateful to be back home. It was not long before the Prince joined his father in blissful reverie.


	2. 1-2 : The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clean, delicious and wet smut plus a plan being formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the chapter titles refer to which segment of the arc you're reading. This arc is the first, known as 'The Beginning'.

The next morning Legolas felt as though he had been run over by a troll. Each muscle in his body ached and his head throbbed horribly. The storm had passed and the forest outside the windows sounded peaceful. He groaned as he rolled over, reaching for his quiver and bow, not realizing where he was exactly. He sat up suddenly, practically cross-eyed as his fingers came into contact with luscious silk blankets and warmth that did not feel at all like the forest floor.

"Ada?"

"Mmmmnnhh..." Thranduil groaned, the sound of Legolas's voice pulling him up from his hazy dreams and into reality. Golden sunlight beamed past the forest canopy and through the windows of his wide, airy room. Too bright for the king's liking, he buried his face in the pillow beside him - which turned out to be the warm chest of his son. "Iôn nín..?" he mumbled, pressing his palm around to feel Legolas and eventually pulling him close for a hug.

Graced with a lack of hangovers but burdened with a heavy shroud of sadness within, Thranduil felt how he did every morning. Tired and lonely, wondering why he had to go on this day. But now he was with Legolas, he wanted nothing more than to go down to the baths with him and relax away all their aches of the past. He had much to do today - scour Mirkwood for any sign of Tauriel, learn of Legolas's travels, check if there was anything suspicious going on with his guards... And of course, sit on his throne and mope a bit. It was only fitting to start the day with a bit of much-needed pampering.

Legolas smiled as he was pulled in close and he breathed in deeply his father's scent. His eyes slowly came back into focus and he realized where he was. Thranduil looked as though he hadn't moved the entire night and Legolas was shocked. His father always seemed to be up at the crack of dawn, fully bathed, clothed, and seated on his throne, any and all guards awaiting his bidding. He was also surprised his father hadn't called Legolas on the fact that he hadn't showered in the last several days. His own nose was once incredibly sharp but consciously dulling his senses was the only way Legolas wouldn't go mad spending day after day with Men and Dwarves who were unwashed and covered in caked blood, sweat, and grime.

He knew not how his father suffered each day while he was away, but had an inkling of an idea about the ache his mother had left in his heart. It was for the best, perhaps, because it would eat away at the Prince's heart to know how deeply Thranduil ached.

Legolas traced a finger down Thranduil's chest, smirking softly as he left a light grey mark of dirt behind on his pale, flawless flesh. "I was honestly shocked that you did not toss me into the baths as soon as you saw me. Come, Ada, I'm starved and there is much to be done today..."

Thranduil made a face of slight disgust, recoiling as he felt the lightest smudge against his skin.

"Yes, if I hadn't thrown you into the baths yesterday I will surely do so now. Clean yourself thoroughly and then you can eat." he said as he moved out of bed and looked into his floor-to-ceiling mirror, glaring at the unkempt vision before him. Sneaking down to the hot springs with his clothes ready and servants waiting to make him look perfect again was all he thought of - along with restoring Legolas to his proper princely state.

"You should not have to see me like this..." he grumbled, threading his fingers through the slightly tangled locks of his hair to loosen them a bit. His hair reached his butt and was hell to comb - it took five experienced elves a few hours to get his hair the way he wanted it. And Thranduil, being incredibly vain could cause quite a fuss if he didn't feel like the most beautiful elf on Arda at all points of the day.

He turned to Legolas, hair swishing behind him as it fell from his hands. "I will go too. You may join me if you wish."

Legolas had always been slightly more drawn to the mud and dirt that his father had probably liked. As an elfling, Legolas sought out every puddle following a rainstorm, and had ruined many a robe and tunic because of it. As of late, the dirt and grime did not seem to bother him much at all, but part of him got an enormous amount of pleasure out of teasing his father who seemed to loathe the idea of a single hair being out of place. He watched Thranduil struggle through his rich mane of silver hair and smiled. "Oh Valar forbid I see your bed head, melethron." Legolas rolled his eyes. His father was ever so dramatic. While it could annoy the prince at times, he mostly found it endearing. He did not remember his mother well, but Legolas was certain he got a little more of his rough and tumble attitude from her.

Before Legolas had departed, it was not unusual for them to bathe together. Royalty shared the hot springs with one another without a second thought. It was a place where they could relax in their own skins without being suspected of a single thing. The Prince in his father's chambers from the night into the morning, however, would surely raise more than one eyebrow.

"Go too? I would race you there if it weren't for this damned pain in my head." Legolas rubbed his temples, groaning as his head throbbed. "I do not know how you do it. You have a Dwarvish tolerance for liquor."

He stood and pulled on his green tunic, lacing up the front and not even bothering with his hair, which was in much worse condition than his father's. It was a few inches below his shoulders and proved to be much more resilient and manageable.

Legolas sighed, making his way towards the door and offering his arm to the King. "I suppose our private homecoming is over then."

Thranduil was a little irritated at being told he had a Dwarven tolerance for liquor - he never liked to be spoken of in even the same sentence as those creatures! However any negativity to his mood dissipated as he saw his son had a hangover. Gently he ran his hand over the top of Legolas's head, a sympathetic look on his face. When he took the prince's arm and got himself ready, they walked silently out of Thranduil's chambers. Indeed, their private little time together was over, but the guards in the palace knew better than to speak to their prince when he was feeling less than perfect, and to not even meet eyes with their King.

Without much fuss they made their way to the hot springs, steam rising from the heated rocky floor with a fine, clean mist hanging about. A few servants were fixing Thranduil's clothes for him on a bench nearby, but upon sight of Legolas they rushed away to get him something to wear too. Thranduil didn't wait a second as he dropped his robe to the floor, his elegant pale form stepping out like a butterfly with giant eyebrows from a cocoon. He then slipped into the pool, the dark water swallowing him up until nothing could be seen but his head.

Legolas stripped and dove in beside Thranduil, taking a moment to surface and sighed as the pleasant heat from the hot springs relaxed his muscles and his mind. The throbbing had dulled significantly. He ran his hands over his face and slicked back his hair, finding a seat that had been carved into the rock. Legolas murmured a "Le athae..." to thank a guard who placed two glasses and a carafe of cold, clean water on the ledge beside him.

He was grateful that no fuss had been made by the servants or guards yet at his return. He reached for a cloth and rubbed it over his neck and chest. "We cannot linger, Adar..." Legolas was careful to refer to Thranduil as just that in front of others. Their servants were trained to be incredibly observant and to not miss a beat, lest lose their jobs or be demoted a position or two. "Tauriel's disappearance is more than... unusual. Do you think she went to the Dwarves?"

Thranduil sighed, running his hands over his body in a light massaging motion. "I do hope not, for any dwarves she may have been fond of are long gone." He thought about Tauriel as he took a small vial of scented oil and poured it over his fingers, then combed them through his hair. He had treated her right, never raised his hand to her nor insulted her honor. What reason at all could she have to leave? He had noticed her growing a little bitter in the past month though, as if a voice in her mind was poisoning her opinion of everything related to Thranduil. Oh yes, he had noticed. The way her eyes narrowed coldly and glared at him when nobody else would dare. How she avoided him, and when giving reports spoke in an unfriendly but professional manner.

"Her behaviour this past month has been less than pleasant." he said, scrubbing absentmindedly at his body beneath the water. "Some of the guards have become frightened of her, and it seems their fear stems from the things she says." What the king had meant was, in layman's terms 'she was bitchin.'

Legolas raised a brow at this, his eyes drawn to Thranduil's hands and imagining where they were going beneath the water. Tauriel had always had somewhat of a rebellious streak that had apparently grown much worse as of late. It was true, his father put up with her behavior and was far more forgiving of her than he was his other guards. It concerned Legolas that she had begun to get out of hand.

"Fearful of Tauriel? That is not the Elf I remember... Surely you do not think something is afoul?"

He waded over to Thranduil, working the oils through the very tips of his hair, the parts hardest to reach. "You have done nothing but right by her. You took her in... You have been nothing but kind. She would not act this way without warrant."

"What warrant does she have to act against me?" said Thranduil, closing his eyes as Legolas worked at his hair "What warrant does anybody in this kingdom?" He almost bit his tongue as he spoke. Always the ill-tempered king who drank too much and ruled too little, Thranduil knew his subjects feared him more than they respected him. Granted, most of them were in his army and had seen him fight to defend their lives, nearly losing his own in the process. They knew he was a terrifying warrior. And perhaps too much of an isolationist to be considered a typical negotiating, reasonable, open-hearted king. Thranduil however did everything with a purpose. In his mind what he did was right, in his soul he had to be strong. Demanding perfection and obedience from those he served him while punishing those who misbehaved was hardly grounds to call him a tyrant, as Tauriel had done the last time they spoke. He had saved her quivering, beaten body from the clutches of orcs who had slain the only family she had ever known before her eyes. He had taken her as a daughter, raised her, trained her. Maybe even loved her. Yet his people backed away with heads low when he passed, some even moving to protect their close ones. They whispered about him. Not normal elven gossip, ripe and luscious for the mind to devour but harsh things of cold snark muttered behind the King's back. For goodness sake, he would not bite an innocent's head off.

Tauriel had sullied his name, and he barely knew it.

"She has been changed, Legolas. By her will or not, she spoke many things against me and even to my face. There is no logical explanation for that, along with what I have heard about her harming her subordinates over disagreements, arguments over the slightest things." The arguments had been over Thranduil himself, for though his guards were scared of his wrath they were loyal to him no matter what. Tauriel could not dissuade them from protecting his life and honor with weapons and words.

Aside from talking, Thranduil's movements had stilled until his fingers secretly crept along Legolas's thigh, though he looked nothing more than relaxed with a slight expression of distaste as he spoke of Tauriel.

In his mind Legolas knew Thranduil was right. Tauriel's behavior was completely inappropriate and certainly warranted more punishment than she was given. His eyes drifted down to his own hands as he worked out a particularly stubborn knot from his fingers, and the Prince could see why it literally took a small band of skilled elves to care properly for the King's regal locks.

Legolas could not help but feel the anger well up inside of him thinking of what Tauriel might speak of his father, though there had been many times before the Fellowship that father and son had argued, voices raised without hearing one another about the King's rule and lack of actual rule of their Realm. Many words that Legolas spoke that he had regretted and had lashed out without thought. He had been angry, furious, that Thranduil was going to sit idly by in isolation as the fate of their world was decided by by another.

"Are you implying that we should treat her as a threat?"

Legolas' eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he bit his lip as Thranduil's long fingers traveled down his thigh beneath the water and he felt himself react almost instantly. He silently cursed his father and would not let him get away with that so easy. One hand continued to work on Thrandul's locks while his other moved beneath the water and around the king's front, trailing lightly up and down the small patch of flesh just below his belly button.

_You had better watch yourself, meleth..._ Legolas thought to himself. _Two can play that game..._

Thranduil bit back a groan, eyebrows twitching together as his face tensed. It was a dangerous game they played, and one he could see Legolas was willing to participate in.

"I.... do think we should consider her a threat." The lilting tones of his voice ended in a sigh, yet it was not out of exasperation in the way he exhaled. His hand moved to dip further to stroke Legolas's inner thighs, higher and higher until he could reach no more without his awkward hand position giving him away. Thranduil quite enjoyed his son's attentions and seeing as both his hands were underwater, he took Legolas's hand that teased an embarrassingly soft place and brought it lower, to rest just where he wanted it.

"I will send warning to the guards when they go and look for her today... I too will be searching." He knew Tauriel would not recognise him when he went into the forest today, neither would most of his guards. This was something secret he had been able to do since he was young, a manifestation of what their bloodline was gifted with as Sindarin lords ruling over the Silvan. Yet he kept it secret, kept it safe. He did not like to flaunt his power, unlike a certain Lady in the southwest...

"You will not be allowed to come. I hope you understand."

Legolas smirked to himself at the change in Thranduil's voice as his hands teased him. All the while he made sure to be fully aware of the servants surrounding them, though no eyes were directly on the two elves in the spring. He would not be so foolish as to slip up. The steam rising from the crystal clear surface of the water allowed for some much needed coverage, and the heat could play tricks on the eyes. Legolas used all of the above to his advantage, acquiescing as Thranduil guided his hand lower, which he eagerly wrapped around the King's length and stroked lazily. His other hand remained deftly working at the knots in Thranduil's hair, and even when he was able to smooth the majority of them, carefully just ran his fingers through the silken wet mass, enjoying the feel and the weight of it. No one would be able to tell the difference in this environment.

He stopped the movements of both hands, however, when Thranduil forbade him from coming. He released the King and moved to face him, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowing. "Surely you jest, Adar..." Legolas couldn't believe it. Had he not proven himself competent enough to not get killed? He often led searches with Tauriel herself. "I most certainly will be coming. You cannot just..." _Leave me here._ Hadn't Thranduil told Legolas to never leave him again?

Legolas was one an incredibly select few, if not one of the only Elves who could question Thranduil's orders. "Two sets of eyes are better than one."

Thranduil hissed as those warm, tantalising strokes and touches vanished, a slight whine escaping from his throat as he found himself erect and without solution.

" ** _Legolas_**." he growled, "She is dangerous. I will not see you hurt for any reason ever again." Thranduil could see how determined his son was, and being confronted like this was not something he wanted at all. He winced inside when he heard the next argument of 'two sets of eyes are better than one.' More like three eyes are better than one and a half! It was true that Thranduil would not be able to see Tauriel if she was distant, silent and with a bow aimed for his face - he sensed most enemies with instinct and a constant state of battle-readiness along with incredibly sharp hearing which enabled him to detect movement as it displaced air - meaning that if there was a slight wind blowing and the tone of it changed far away, Thranduil could pinpoint something living. Granted, he often mistook a bear standing on hind legs as an Orc, only to be reassured by scent that no such things dared come within his presence.

"Stay within the palace, lest I give the order you are to be guarded."

Even though Legolas could command nearly anything he wanted, there was nobody in the Woodland Realm who would defy Thranduil's orders - no matter what they were.

"Nothing happen to me?" He whispered harshly. _What about you?_

Legolas's frustration at the King's order coupled with the fact that he was incredibly aroused by their mutual touching. His eyes darkened to a deep indigo and he huffed, knowing he should not openly argue. He would not incur Thranduil's threat of being guarded like a prisoner. It would make it easier to sneak after the King. He was not about to remain idly by while Thranduil went after Tauriel alone. Something was surely amiss and Legolas felt an uneasy knot in his belly. His father was half blind and stubborn as a mule at times. He was an incredibly competent warrior and tracker, relying more heavily on his other senses that had become more keen over time.

Legolas would allow his father to leave him, but the Prince had other ideas in mind. "Then go, Adar. I will remain and keep watch of the palace. You needn't worry about me." He clenched his jaw. It took everything for him to not argue again. He inclined his head and lowered his eyes, feigning submission, hoping he was not too obvious to Thranduil's eyes.

Now Thranduil, who hadn't had anything to drink yet and was perfectly clear-headed was paying very close attention to his son. Legolas would not give up so easily, but there was nothing to call him out on despite the fact Thranduil knew he would go against his orders. So he did what he always did - he decided to play along.

"Good. I am glad someone listens to me." he said quietly, holding eye contact with Legolas as his thumbs drew circles on the prince's thighs - very close to where he was most sensitive down there.

"It will not take me more than a day, and I will be back before you know it. " Thranduil often walked in the forest no matter how dark and spooky it was, knowing it like a part of himself or perhaps even better. He knew where he could go and contact those with voices and eyes that could reach farther than his own - many of the trees whispered of the comings and goings in Mirkwood, and Thranduil could understand them. He was sure Legolas could do so as well - but had yet to reacquaint himself with the finer aspects of his son's abilities. If anything left his forest, he would know about it. Tauriel could not defy him forever.

Legolas suspected that Thranduil saw past his lie, but the King was oh so clever at being able to hide it, at least for now in front of their servants. However, when Thranduil would inevitably discover Legolas was following him deep into the forest against his orders he would surely get a tongue lashing, if anything. It was not often that Thranduil would reprimand his son in front of their guards or servants, though Legolas certainly deserved that and more on multiple occasions.

He shuddered as Thranduil stroked his thighs and held his gaze sternly, those indigo orbs becoming hazy. Those touches confirmed that Thranduil knew exactly what he was up to, but the Prince continued to play along.

"Do not worry, Adar. I won't set the palace on fire." Legolas reached up to cup Thranduil's cheek and smiled. "Safe travels."

Lucky for Legolas, the Prince still remembered each and every secret passage of the palace. His tracking skills had become more keen living out in the wild.

Thranduil smiled thinly at the mention of fire, nodding as he brushed his cheek by Legolas's hands. Conversational gameplaying was one of his favourite ways to keep both their wits sharp and meta thinking skills deep - but inwardly he was quite worried what might happen if Legolas snuck out and followed him. He had done so before; time and time again. Perhaps the King had made a mistake in never punishing his son. Thranduil could not bear to hurt him - but a few harsh words and steely glares would suffice for now.

At this very moment however, he was content to tease his son beneath their steamy veil of privacy, knowing elf-ears nearby would pick up the slightest grunt of pleasure as something suspicious. Oh, what would they say if it was discovered the Elvenking wanted to push Legolas against the heated rock wall and pound him into oblivion? Nothing, he suspected. His servants had never said anything against him before. Still, it was fun to be careful like this. Both his hands trailed into Legolas's crotch and closed around his length, long fingers curving around as they stroked with undulating pressure.

Thranduil's hand was making it impossible to think about anything but the talented fingers dancing along his cock. Legolas' eyes rolled back slightly but he caught himself before a throaty groan that was rising deep inside of him was released. While he often wished for nothing more than to explore their feelings openly, Legolas found that he also enjoyed this secretive cat and mouse game. The fear of being discovered was exciting. Pushing his hips forward the slightest bit, Legolas sheathed himself into both of the King's hands. His hands reached beneath the water, and grabbed Thranduil's hips, pressing himself against him while trying to keep their torsos far enough apart so no one suspected anything amiss.

The mist surrounding them also helped dull their voices slightly, though not much to Elven ears. "You... you tease..." He murmured softly, leaning forward so that his lips brushed lightly against his earlobe as he spoke. "Let me help you dress... I can see you off." He couldn't take anymore teasing. He needed release and there was no silent way he could find it in the baths.

At the touch of Legolas's lips by his earlobe, Thranduil shivered all over. His ears were so ridiculously sensitive one could make him come undone completely just by touching them. Without knowing his legs spread, hands gripping a little tighter around his son's arousal.

"Y...yes..." he breathed, voice low and thick with want. Having Legolas bring him to release as they dressed privately sounded like the perfect resolution to his achingly hard problem - but he wondered for a second if any of the servants would find it suspicious that both he and Legolas were more erect than was usual for being 'happy to see each other'. They could not just step out of the baths and sneak their clothes upon each other, could they? Hiding such obvious reactions would be difficult.

"How shall we do this?" he whispered, keeping his head perfectly still so as to not drive himself mad with the hot breaths and soft lips of his son beside his ear. It was becoming increasingly troublesome to keep his voice quiet, for Thranduil was not one to keep his pleasure quiet at all.

"I am going to leave first... you will feign a bath and finish up. I expect you to follow suit immediately." Legolas hated the idea of having to wait while his father followed, but they could simply not leave together. The Prince needed to get this moving before he completely came undone because Thranduil did not cease teasing him. The King's voice was practically dripping now, throaty and low and Legolas felt his blood pulsing in Thranduil's hand. His father was certainly not making the situation easier. Legolas both loved and cursed him for it.

He waved for one of the servants to bring his robes, not trusting his voice at the moment. Legolas motioned for him to leave his robes at the end of the pool. "I shall be awaiting an audience with you." Legolas purred in the King's ear, lightly running the tip of his tongue along the perfect curve of its length, flicking it at the pointed tip. He pulled back then, smiling wickedly as he turned his back to Thranduil then, and rose from the water, droplets trailing down between his shoulders to the small of his back and between his buttocks. His motions were slow and deliberate, as he pulled on his robe, tying it tight before he left.

"Prepare the King's robe, if you will..." Legolas ordered the servant before slipping out the door.

Thranduil kept his eyes tightly shut, forcing himself to be still, unfeeling and calm. So great was his desire now he felt as if merely standing would cause him to explode! Damn Legolas and his knowledge of his father's weak spot.

He only waited for thirty seconds before pulling himself out of the water, standing tall and shaking the water from his hair. Due to the oils his hair was left slick and fragrant without too much liquid heaviness to it, and grabbing a towel nearby Thranduil dried himself in a hurry. The servant had left his robe for him ready to step into, hanging on a tall curved post specifically for preserving the drapery of elven garments. With the towel around his waist, the King smoothly transitioned from one coverup to the next - keeping his robes tied tight around his stomach, while the towel dropped to the floor.

"Do you require any attention to your hair?" asked the servant, highly accustomed to Thranduil's routine of bathing then seating himself where many hands could comb and condition his luxurious silver locks. Thranduil shook his head, gracefully turning away to adjust the back of his robes. His son wanted an audience, presumably a private one, meaning he would most likely be waiting in the throne room within the palace. Though if Legolas wanted to be taken before the public eye high upon Thranduil's throne of carven wood in the center of the Woodland Realm, by all means the King would grant him that.

Proper clothes would come later, as would Thranduil's duties. His mind was set on one thing only, and as he walked out of the baths he could think of nothing more than his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designations:  
> Me: Thranduil, Galadriel, Galion  
> Partner: Legolas, Celeborn, Tauriel  
> Both: Various NPCs


	3. 1-3 : The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times on the throne and concerns for Tauriel. Then, drama.  
> Madness and regret will soon follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The current season in Mirkwood is Summer, if anyone wants to know. :)
> 
> This chapter is incredibly long and was written over the course of a week.   
> If you're wondering why smut scenes end so quickly, it's not because the elves have little sexual stamina. Both my partner and I preferred short, sweet and concise sexual encounters between the characters. (I also am not that good at writing drawn out experiences for this kinda thing XD)
> 
> The plot begins to form.

Legolas had indeed desired an audience with the King, and the narrow bridge leading to the central throne was lined with several guards. They bowed to their Prince but Legolas dismissed them immediately. As Thranduil did not command them before now, Legolas had complete control and they left the room in a line. They would be alone this morning, but in dreams Legolas wanted nothing more than the King to have him in front of all. He wanted to scream his love to the Valar, throw care to the wind, and live the life a bonded pair might, but he knew it could never be so, no matter how much he desired it. No matter how willing he was to give everything for it. For now, a private audience with Thranduil would have to suffice. He could barely keep his hands off Thranduil, it had been so many months without his touch. They were simply making up for time lost.

Before the steps leading up to the King's great throne, Legolas shed his deep green robes, of a heavy silk and richly embroidered with the leaves of Greenwood the Great and made his way with silent footsteps up the winding stairs. He sat, bare as the day he came into this world, a leg swung lazily over an arm of the throne, resting his chin on his other fist as he stared at the doors, waiting. Wanting. Needing.

Thranduil strode into the room with his head held high and hands folded behind his back. The sight of Legolas, nude and on his throne sparked excitement within the King who closed the distance between them with purpose. His robe fell to the bottom of the stairs as he cast it off while ascending, before bowing down on one knee to Legolas.

"So eager to become King, _your majesty_." he whispered, raising his head and peering darkly through his eyebrows. "Do allow me the privilege of touching you." His lips ghosted along Legolas's skin from his thigh to his stomach, then to his chest until Thranduil was stretched out like a cat with fingers curling around his son's wrists. A little bit of perverse roleplay was something Thranduil delighted in, and seeing his son seemingly in a position of power caused a feeling deep within him to ravish Legolas with all his strength. To show him who was in control. Who loved him so dearly he would not let him take the burden of being King, even for a day.

Legolas's eyes narrowed and he watched Thranduil stride towards him, naked in all of his ethereal glory. The confidence in his steps would give no hint to the untrained eye that the King's vision was less than perfect. The Prince knew that his father had learned his halls like the back of his hand, and any misstep up those stairs could lead to a serious injury. His gait was flawless in this room. He shivered in delight at the sight of Thranduil bowing before him, but knew his father would never give up power quite so easily. In fact, Legolas could not even fathom the idea of ruling on his own... his father was his anchor, all powerful, all knowing, and in complete control. And Legolas loved to give up his control to the King. The suitors he took to bed Legolas would often take and make them bend to his will, but he would do anything his father asked of him.

The Prince's eyes were so dark with lust now that they almost appeared black and he strained slightly beneath the grip on his wrists. He leaned upwards to capture the King's mouth in a deep kiss before pulling back and purring against his lips. "Was that a request or a demand? I should have your head for demanding such a privilege of your King. Show me your worth..." Legolas challenged, pulling the King close and devouring his sweet lips.

"Indeed... you should have my head. Between your legs." Thranduil whispered against his son's lips and slipped down, keeping close contact with his body sliding easily against Legolas's smooth skin. He could see in Legolas's dark eyes how he wanted this, with his own gaze reflecting a light mischievous green. Long had it been since he'd been able to play like this, let alone at all.

He rested his head in Legolas's lap, not waiting for any approval before he licked a long, pressing stripe up to the tip of his son's length. "Mmm..." he sighed, "You taste ready enough for me, aran nîn." Releasing his grip, his hands stroked from Legolas's chest to waist, one resting on the arm of his throne as the other dipped low to take care of himself. Breathing hotly against all that his mouth owned, Thranduil took Legolas in deeply in time with a firm pull to his own desire.

Legolas groaned loudly, fire welling up in his loins as the King took him into his throat with the skill few possessed. He tossed his head back, silver hair, still wet, slapping his back. He pushed himself hard into the wet warmth, one hand steadying himself on the backing of the ornately carved throne, the other gripping the King's hair firmly, using him as leverage.

He finally found the restraint to look down at Thranduil between his legs, watching his eyes and those skillful lips of his, the intimacy of it all enough to send the Prince over the edge. But he would not lose himself yet. He would savor this and enjoy every second. Thranduil knew just how to send him over the edge and Legolas bucked up into his mouth in reckless abandon.

The only sounds in the room were the sound of Thranduil's mouth upon him and Legolas' own ragged breathing as he felt himself spiraling out of control.

"Too... much... I can't..." Legolas pleaded, gripping Thranduil's hair harder. His other hand moved from the throne upon which he was sprawled to trace the King's strong jaw, feeling himself pulse beneath his cheek.

" _Adar_!"

Thranduil moaned around his son's length and pressed his tongue to the tip where he could feel just how close Legolas was. His eyes closed as he worked at himself a little harder, now writhing under his own touch along with the sensation of having Legolas at his mercy. Indeed, he knew just what to do to drive his son to the edge, what would make him be overcome with pleasure and cry out for him.

Ah, but he stilled his hand and clamped his lips in such a way that Legolas would be unable to release unless he forced it very hard.

"Am I _worthy_ now?" he asked, smirking through his slightly messed up hair which almost covered his face. Slight pain registered where Legolas gripped him, but he cared not for it at the moment. His son would not hurt him terribly, even though they got a little rough in the heat of the moment sometimes.

"Fuck!" Legolas hissed, sputtering some rather un-Princely curses as Thranduil staved off his release with a skillful hand and an even more skilled mouth. Every fiber of his being was crying out for release and Legolas nodded frantically, releasing the King's hair and smoothing it away from his eyes so that he might look into those lovely orbs that changed and glittered in lust.

"Saes... yes, more than worthy, melamin..." Legolas was nearly shaking now. The teasing was far too much. "Saes... Gin iallon..." _No one_ , save for Thranduil, would ever hear, or had heard Legolas beg for any reason whatsoever. At this point the Prince had no idea what he was begging for but he guided Thranduil's chin up towards his, tasting his own salty sweetness on his father's lips mixed with his own heady flavor. Love, need, desperation, were written all over the Prince's beautiful features. "Saes..."

"As you wish...." Thranduil whispered, stroking thrice quickly for Legolas to find release as his lips busied themselves kissing him deeply. How he loved it when Legolas begged! Close to spending himself too, Thranduil drew his free hand up to smooth his hair behind one ear, pinching the tip of it as he shuddered all over. The gentle sensation of his heated flesh dragging across Legolas's stomach as he moved higher was all he needed to spill himself atop his son, groaning heavily into the lips of his sweet prince.

Legolas' body felt like jelly when Thranduil finished him off, seeing stars in the middle of the day as he felt himself go limp. He moaned loudly as his beloved King finished himself off upon his lips and his tongue swiped out to catch every last sweet drop. Legolas' hair was mussed and his body pale and glowing as he savored the aftermath of it all, his head dropping to the side of the throne, pulling Thranduil close.

He felt complete, and the worries that lie ahead seemed so far away. This was their place and Legolas was, at the moment, unwilling to leave it.

"Ni melithog n'uir?" Legolas whispered into the King's ear, stroking a lock of hair beside it as he nuzzled his nose against the side of his face. _Will you love me for eternity?_

Talk of a bond had never come up between them, for some things were better left unsaid. Elves were not meant to love truly more than once, and Thranduil had deeply loved his mother. Now that she was gone, Legolas was the closest thing he had to her. If the King didn't fill that void, Legolas knew he would find no one.

"Always." he replied, enjoying the affectionate gestures of his son. Legolas had his mother's eyes, and Thranduil always loved to gaze into them as he felt such a deep connection with Legolas it could not be compared to anything else. The prince's love gave him hope. For he had loved his wife, but not bonded with her. He had never been able to complete the rite, fearing loss above all else. Had he bonded with her, he would have died long ago from grief.

He gently turned to kiss Legolas on the tip of his nose, where he was nuzzling him. "Will you?"

"Always." Legolas repeated. It was true, too. No matter how many times he had lost his temper with his father, he had never threatened revoking any sort of love for the King. It would be cruel, and the Prince was very far from that. He had only assumed that Thranduil had bonded to his mother in the past, since they had a son together and the King seemed to love her more than anything else in all of Arda. He did not put two and two together that when she had died, Thranduil had not faded.

The throne was large enough for two and Legolas pulled Thranduil closer, unable to keep his hands and lips away. Another side that many did not see from either the Prince or King: complete and utter affection. Unconditional love. Elves that would do anything for the other. "Please, let me come with you..." Legolas murmured. Surely the king had a change of heart in the last hour. Every moment that passed, Tauriel moved farther and farther from their grasp. Legolas could feel it.

But Thranduil was as stubborn as ever. "No. I will not risk you for anything at all." he muttered, firmly seating himself in Legolas's lap and leaning to have their faces close. "Le melin, Legolas." He would not lose him again. He had seen the horrors of how close Legolas had gotten to being hurt many times, and too often he had failed to protect his family just like the situation was threatening now. He had seen his father, his wife, and nearly his son fall to the clutches of death. If he kept Legolas in their fortress where nothing bad could ever happen, it made sense that he would survive.

He did not say that he had such a bad feeling about going to find Tauriel, he thought it would kill whoever went with him. Horrific things had been on his mind lately, and the visions were becoming clearer and clearer of a female form beating him senseless with either fists or magic - he did not know. It terrified him due to the fact that his visions almost always came true, and if he could avoid it he would not want Legolas to be there when he tempted fate.

"Do not argue this."

"There is nothing to fear, not if we work together to seek Tauriel out."

Legolas couldn't comprehend why Thranduil was so adamant that he remained behind. Even now, he could not find the strength to argue, whatever the King's reasoning would be, and he pressed his forehead to his father's, sighing. "And I you, melamin..." He sighed, stroking Thranduil's hair. "I will not argue." _But I shall follow._

Legolas pressed his lips against the King's again, his arms tightening around him, unwilling to let him go even though he knew he must.

Thranduil parted his lips slightly as Legolas kissed him, believing for a little while that his son actually would listen, that he would be safe.

"Le hannon..." he thanked him as if Legolas was doing a brave and noble thing, feeling those arms tighten around his body. Thranduil realised his son did not want him to leave either, possibly for the same reasons his father held. They both wanted to see each other in safety and happiness. What was different happened to be just how far each was willing to go. And Thranduil was stubborn enough to always get what he wanted, no matter what.

"We have time for breakfast, and I must get changed into clothes appropriate for the journey. Come, you said you were starving this morning." he motioned with his head towards the door, gazing at Legolas with a grey look. Now his mind had turned to business.

"I had nearly forgotten breakfast..." It had been many months since he was able to partake in the lavish meals of Mirkwood. Like everything Thranduil owned, the foods were incredibly lavish and decadent. He remembered their breakfasts being particularly light, and the King of the Realm did not skimp even on a light meal to break one's fast. Fruits of incredible variety, lightly poached eggs and the softest, lightest pastries laced with honey and various nuts. His mouth was starting to water. He was starting to get incredibly sick of lembas bread, traveling every waking hour.

Legolas felt his stomach growl, and he had nearly forgotten how ravenous he was this morning. Now, it was the early afternoon and the throbbing ache in his head had subsided. Standing slowly, Legolas padded silently down the stairs and dressed in his discarded robes. He made his way to his own chambers, ones he had rarely spent the evenings in during the last century or so. They were no so large as the King's but no less lavish. His own bedding and tapestries were of the deepest emeralds and greens, embroidered with silvery leaves. Everything was in perfect order, left untouched as though Legolas had never left. He chose a finer outfit for their late breakfast, a silver tunic and rich coal leggings and black leather boots. He combed his hair so that it shone and fit his own circlet upon his head, one that he had not touched in years. A thin branch of the forest, woven and dipped in silver. It was much more simple than his father's many crowns but clearly denoted him as royal blood. Sweeping blue eyes over his chambers once more, Legolas had a strange feeling that this might be the last time in a while, once again, that he would set foot in his own room. Shaking his head, he closed the door and went to find his father.

Thranduil had not taken his usual hour or so to find clothes he wanted - for he knew exactly what he needed to wear and what he was going to do. From within his great wardrobe one could walk through as if it were a hallway lined with robes, he found an outfit of pure white with long rippling drapery along the back, tight sleeves and slight tones of grey spiralling down from his chest. This particular garment fortified his magical energy to the degree that he felt like a wizard when casting enchantments and the like. His crown for today (he had many, innumerable and beautiful ordered on a high shelf) was not one he could wear to breakfast - so he went without decoration but with all the fanciness befitting his position to his favourite morning place.

Far to the right hand side of the Woodland Realm within the vast palace could be found a balcony, high above the forest canopy and overlooking the lands of Middle-Earth to the west. Railings carved of smooth rock rose to waist height in a semicircle, twirled with vines and hundreds of tiny jasmine flowers. The flowers were tinged purple with an enchantment of immortality, as Thranduil took great care of all the plant life within his realm. Here was where he took breakfast and watched the rays of the sun shine from behind the mountain into the trees below, and here he sat in an ornate chair of beechwood with the dappled golden light of midday sweeping through his hair. Thranduil waited for his son, gazing out over Mirkwood with senses on alert for any sign of Legolas.

It took no spoken words between them for Legolas to know directly where to go to meet his father. He had spent many a morning dining with the King, their view an absolutely breathtaking canopy of the trees below, their colors changing with the season. It was difficult to see the sky in many parts of the palace, but here was an unadulterated view of their Kingdom and what lie before them. There were dark clouds in the distance, the remnants of the storm from the night before, but the rest of the sky above them was clear and blue. At night, Legolas would often find himself here, breathing in deep the scent of jasmine and staring up at the stars. The King took meticulous and loving care of his flowers, his plants, and any living thing in his palace, and Legolas, too, had grown with a love and a way with nature. If Legolas listened closely enough to the trees around him, they would speak. The stones, too, and sometimes the sky, if you were able to read it well.

Legolas stood in the entranceway of the balcony and smiled at the sight of the King, glorious as ever in robes of pure white starlight. He bowed deeply to his father and moved to stand at the carved railings, leaning over the side and gazing down at their world below.

"This view never disappoints me."

"It will only become more beautiful as the seasons change." Thranduil turned a little to gaze at Legolas, admiring his choice in attire for their meal together. "As will you, iôn nín."

Ageless and carefree was how Thranduil liked to see Legolas, knowing as an elf he would only become more irresistible as time passed. Thranduil himself wondered if seven thousand years had changed him for the worst, as when he looked into mirrors these days he didn't know what to think of the sight. Now, as he looked over the shaded green leaves of his forest, he hoped as the darkness in his heart was healed Mirkwood too would become bright and lively once more. These things took time. And much, much care.

Thranduil registered movement behind him, and glanced to the timely elf arriving with trays of food. Ah, it was Galion, Thranduil's most loyal butler who took care of the more personal affairs of the royal family. He smiled to his king and prince, setting out a wide assortment of foods with many sweet things in little portions just for Thranduil.

"Going out today, sire?" he asked Thranduil, noting the specific clothes he wore.

"Yes, I presume you've heard of what happened to Tauriel?"

At this, Galion looked a bit concerned.

"I have... Consider taking Legolas with you, just in case."

Thranduil chuckled, glancing to his son and shaking his head.

"Seems the whole world wants me to take you with me, iôn."

"Stop, Adar... you are making me blush."

Legolas smiled, laughing gently and shaking his head as he cocked an eyebrow at the King. It was true, as Elves aged they only got better, like a fine wine. As the centuries passed, they grew more beautiful, wise, powerful... they remained ageless as things around them withered and died. Some might think it a curse, but for Legolas it was a blessing. He could choose to spend eternity with Thranduil, who was immortal like himself. Provided nothing ever happened to the King, Legolas could remain happy for Ages. He thought sadly about his dear friend Aragorn, and how he would one day age and died, and Arwen with him.

Dew from the storm since past still clung to the tops of the trees below, and the light of the sun reflected off each tiny droplet, giving the appearance of a thousand glittering diamonds beneath them.

 

Legolas smiled at Galion, inclining his head to his father's butler. "Gallon." He was very fond of this particular elf, and was glad that he was here with Thranduil in Legolas' absence. Legolas was certain Galion had taken care of the King to the best of his ability.

 

Reaching down to take a small honey cake, Legolas took a bite and enjoyed the flowery sweetness on his tongue. He had taken to standing for meals and did not sit down. "I think you should listen to Galion, Adar..." Legolas agreed vehemently with the other elf. "I think he knows what he's talking about."

Thranduil sighed heavily, picking up a golden crusted tart filled with luscious strawberries and topped with melted chocolate. "You have given him hope, Galion. Now I wonder how I will be able to sneak out on my own, and do what I must..." He took a bite out of the tart and closed his eyes momentarily, listening for the intake of breath he knew meant Galion was about to dump logic and reason upon him.

However, Galion was serious this time and spoke with worry behind his professional respect.

"It is wise to take your most capable set of eyes in the search against a rogue archer such as Tauriel, my King. Sneaking will not hide you when you're dressed in such bright white in the forest..."

But Thranduil had other ideas.

"Ah, you do not know what I have planned. Both you and Legolas need to trust me for I will not allow anything to go wrong." The rest of the tart disappeared into his mouth, and Thranduil had barely swallowed it when he picked up a long caramel wafer and pointed it at Legolas.

"You, however are still staying here. I have twenty of our finest hunters set to guard me and aid in the search."

Galion nearly facepalmed - though he found Thranduil's stubbornness endearing at times, it irritated him to know the King was risking his life in this unknown situation because he feared for Legolas. More than anyone, Galion knew how capable the prince was along with how much Thranduil denied it. Thranduil didn't want to believe his son could survive in the wild, let alone go against any enemies whatsoever. To him, it was like watching a kitten enter a jousting match with an Orc. Painful to watch and think of. And so he happily deluded himself and prevented Legolas from even the slightest possibility of danger.

Upon mention of Thranduil's _plan_ , Legolas cocked a brow. "What you have planned? I do not like the sound of that at all." In fact, Legolas had absolutely no idea what the King meant by that. He exchanged a glance with Galion and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"And twenty of your finest? I do believe that your Prince far exceeds our guards, even though they are quite capable." Legolas muttered, choosing a ripe red strawberry for his next treat. They tasted like the summer sun. Many of the fruits upon their table now were grown in the gardens of the palace or found in the forest nearby. He was certain Galion could only guess the Prince's next move since it was not the first time Legolas snuck out against his father's orders. For all he knew, Galion already had a horse readied for Legolas.

"And Adar, Galion is right. You would be like a glowing beacon for any and all to see. The White Tree of Gondor the Great." Legolas snorted. "Might I suggest something darker and less conspicuous?"

Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. "I wear white for magic purposes, Legolas. I assure you nobody will recognise me in the forest." He seemed hesitant to explain further his choices, and replaced words in his mouth with a sugar-dusted slice of cherry pie. Content to chew and gaze into the distance, he would speak nothing of his plans. It was just a simple walk in the forest, asking any living being what they had seen, and going to the edge of Mirkwood to see if the world was as it had always been.

Despite Galion being on friendly terms with Thranduil, he honestly wanted to shake him by the shoulders and tell him with force that this was not a good idea. If he could not protect his King with words, then by all means he would help Legolas follow him in secret.

Legolas was one of the only people in Middle-Earth who could sneak behind Thranduil undetected - for it was he that learned how his father sensed the world, and became knowledgeable about how to vanish from it. Thranduil would be trying something like that very soon - for if he could not be recognised as the Elvenking, who would want to hurt him as he walked through the forest - unknown, and ethereal.

Magic purposes. Now, when was the last time his father had used magic? Legolas could help but be concerned for his father. He smiled, however, of his father's choices for breakfast. It was obvious where the Prince got his sweet tooth from. While Thranduil gazed off into the distance Legolas exchanged glances once again with Galion, nodding at him knowingly. He wanted to meet with the elf upon Thranduil's departure. He knew Galion would make sure that not even the guards who would keep watch and send word to Thranduil if he were to leave would be able to see him leave. He had done it many times before, and though Legolas could remain unseen once he was in the forest alone and following Thranduil at a closer proximity, it was leaving the palace that was often left heavily guarded that proved to be the difficult piece of his escape.

Legolas always had been protective of Thranduil with his injury. His lack of sight, one which many did not know about, had left him vulnerable for a period, and it hurt Legolas to see his father weak. "You mustn't delay, then. It shall be dark soon and the nightfall will impair visibility." Now he was trying to urge his father to leave. The sooner Legolas could go after him, the better. The safer they both would be.

"It is not as if I can see much anyway." Thranduil smiled thinly, gracefully sweeping his hand across a nearby napkin to rid his fingers of crumbs. He would not forget his manners, no matter how terribly he wished to lick his fingers and inhale an endless amount of sweets.

"Don't stay up too late, iôn nín. I shall be back by sunrise."

 

Galion stepped away as Thranduil left the balcony, walking with purpose along the arch-lined hallway to his chambers. There, he picked up a crown kept hidden away very carefully behind layers of silvery fabric. Made of stag horns carved to fit around his head and held together with strong branches from the trees outside the realm's gates, Thranduil held in his hands a manifestation of the woodland's very essence. Quietly and quickly he avoided anyone he could sense, moving from the palace to the common area of his realm with its winding pathways and soft amber lights. Nobody saw as he took a turn down a dark tunnel, crown in his hands and determination on his face. He was heading for a crack in the mountainside, one which only the slimmest of elves could slip through as he had done many times before. The fact that he got stuck now made him thank the Valar that Legolas had not followed him, as he was sure he would have done.

 

Speaking of Legolas - Galion was arranging things for Legolas to be able to sneak away, unnoticed by the guards who listened to Galion as if he carried word from the King himself. Thranduil had not yet had time to give the order that he should be notified immediately if Legolas tried to escape - for he intended the guards to restrain the prince and keep him inside the realm no matter what Legolas said.

Finding Thranduil might prove difficult, however. He leaned against the mountainside with a glare on his face, wondering if the rock had shrunk in the years he had not slipped through its crevices. Oh well. He was sure nobody would ever be able to get in through there, now that he placed a barrier against any non-elven species entering from that place. Slowly, he raised both arms and placed the crown upon his head. The minute it made contact with his hair, Thranduil's white robes glowed in an all-encompassing brightness until there was nothing left of the Elvenking. In his place stood a white stag, with the same antlers as those on the crown. He was ready for the hunt.

As soon as Thranduil departed, Legolas turned on his heel and left the balcony, shedding his clothing for something far less conspicuous, unlike his father. Legolas still couldn't imagine what the King was up to, though, being an Elf of Old, it could be just about anything. He changed his royal tunic for his hunting garb, a plain green and grey tunic and leggings, simply designed and made of a mixture of breathable cotton and suede. Making his way swiftly down one long corridor, dimly lit by amber flames, Legolas' steed was tacked and and the Prince's weapons, two long daggers, one of gold and the other of silver blade, his quiver, and his bow, slung over the saddle. He stroked his horse's neck and smiled. "Mithroch, mellon nin..." Thranduil had helped Legolas break this horse at its birth several centuries past. A steely grey stallion, lean and impressive in height, Mithroch was a descendant of the Maeras, and was blessed with long life.

Legolas was forever grateful for Galion's assistance. He could never thank the Elf enough for all he had done, siding with the Prince when no one else would. Hopping effortlessly into his saddle, Legolas leaned over Mithroch's strong neck and whispered into his ears in Sindar for the horse to take him into the forest. They were on the hunt. He would have to go on foot after a certain point. There is some terrain that he would fare much better on his own feet.

Within a moment Mithroch snorted, nostrils flared as he took off at a gallop down the corridor and out into the forest. Legolas took to the perimeter of the forest for now, keen eyes scanning between the trees, looking for any sign of the King. He could not pick up Thranduil's scent, and the trees told him nothing. The terrain started to become treacherous, and too rocky for Legolas' mount to travel. He dismounted and gathered his weapons, thanking Mithroch and sending him back towards the palace. They had traveled miles and miles, and so far there was no sign of the King. How in all of Arda could he have gotten so far on foot?

Meanwhile, Thranduil was trotting about the forest easily making his way over thick roots and uneven ground. He hadn't taken his stag form since the dwarves entered his forest sixty or so years ago - but this was a way for him to connect with his lands and gain knowledge on all that had passed through. Furthermore, Tauriel would not jump out of nowhere and kill him. He knew she would never hurt an animal, as were the morals of most elves. So by taking this form, he had somewhat ensured his safety. Nobody knew he could do this at all, at least to his knowledge.

He tapped the root of a tree with his foot, and raised his head. Hunters and guards alike roamed nearby, and he was told a horse had been spotted returning to the Woodland Realm. Thranduil sighed, though it came out as an angered snort. Legolas. He was sure of it.

If his son was looking for him, Thranduil figured it would make sense to approach him and let him know he did not need to be followed-

A resounding crack in the distance snapped Thranduil out of his thoughts immediately. Suddenly he became alert, an acute sense of dread seeping into his body. No longer did he feel confident and safe enough to prance about looking for Tauriel without a care in the world. Instinct told him one thing - he had to find Legolas.

Legolas cursed himself when a nearby guard saw him. He should have been more careful! He had no doubt his sighting would spread like wildfire and reach his father's ears before he could return back to the palace if he wanted to. He continued to move further south, keeping keen eyes and ears open while he moved through a thicker patch of forest. Here it was so dark it was difficult for even the Prince could see where he was going, but he trusted his senses and his feet. He guided his hands along the trees, allowing them to guide him as he continued to move. Legolas could not explain it, but a sense of dread suddenly filled him. Placing his hand over the hilt of a dagger, Legolas held his breath, eyes searching the dark. The dark canopy of trees was ending just ahead, and Legolas could see a bit of light at the end of his path.

It all happened so suddenly, the sharp crack of a twig behind him, the crunch of leaves as the blunt force of the hilt of a blade struck the side of his face. Legolas' vision started to swirl and he stumbled forward a few steps, turning to find his attacker. But his vision was growing so dark now, and the forest surrounding him was starting to spin. He tasted the iron tang of blood in his mouth as his body hit the ground.

Tauriel had been waiting for the Prince for the last day, high in the trees where Thranduil's guards would not even see her. She was the Captain of the Guard, of course, so it was easy to outsmart her own troops. Legolas had fallen into her trap much too easily, and she heaved the Prince's limp body over her shoulders, ignoring the buckling of his knees. Galadriel had ordered her to bring her Legolas, for surely Thranduil would come like a fly to a honey pot, and in return, she could pay the King back for all of the wrongdoings to her. She would not kill the Prince, of course, for it was not him she was interested in.

 

Galadriel had given Tauriel a cloak of the Galadhrim, laced with magic that would allow them safe passage as she traveled with Legolas undetected. Now, Tauriel was barely recognizable as an elf of Thranduil's realm. Her long auburn braids were the only thing that gave her away, and on her face a steely gaze of golden eyes. Galadriel was so clever that not even Tauriel realized she was under the control of the Lady of the Woods. Galadriel had come to Tauriel in a dream, tainting her mind and twisting her image of Thranduil, who she now wanted dead. And she would get what she wanted, sooner or later, that much was certain.

 

Thranduil sensed something much deeper - as if a part of him was being pulled at until it would disappear into the air. Legolas was going somewhere, and he could feel it. Turning his head from side to side, he caught wind of a familiar scent. Very faint, but sweet. Blood?

If Legolas was injured, Thranduil had to get to him at once.

He followed his senses as far as they would take him, seeing nothing in the darkness but the white glow of his own presence. Still, he kept his head tilted up as he searched the trees fruitlessly for something he could not see.

 

Where were all his guards, and why was he following what could surely be a delusional hope? In time, the southern edge of the forest came close and he realised that soon he would be seeing whatever he was following if they left Mirkwood. With Legolas? Not a chance.

 

Tauriel had traveled swiftly with the Prince, whistling upon the wind at the edge of Mirkwood's borders. The King did not have as many eyes outside of his own Realm. Her horse had been waiting nearby, and she swung Legolas up over the front, climbing up behind him and galloping off towards the Golden Wood. It would not be long for her to reach its borders and no Galadhrim would stand in her way. They would dare not even cock an eyebrow at the sight of Mirkwood's prince hanging bloodied over her horse like a sack of grain. She was under orders of the Lady of the Wood, after all.

 

As they traveled across the vast open fields away from the forest, Tauriel reached out to Galadriel, who had linked their minds. They would need to be in open communication, after all. The Captain of the Guard was not to make any mistakes. _My lady, it is done. I have the Prince... I imagine Thranduil will be following suit swiftly. What would you command of me?_

She bristled as they rode, sensing something upon the air. The scent of the King and of the wild. She would have to move quickly, less she be the one to confront Thranduil against Galadriel's orders and kill him where he stood. He would not have the Prince before Galadriel.

 

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the sight of a horse galloping away - and summoning all his stamina he set off at full speed after it. Had he been on foot as an elf, he never would have made it. But with four legs and a lean body made to run, this felt almost... natural. Like something primal had awakened within him, and he could see nothin but his prey before him- a cloak with insignia he couldn't make out clearly, and a flick of red here and there.

 

Galadriel waited at the top of the stairs to her council room, a wide open platform atop the tallest tree in Lórien. The floor was of clear glass and she stared down at the spiralling steps, watching golden-haired elves scurry about their daily business. Tauriel spoke to her, and she responded within her mind. "Bring him to me at the council room, and keep Legolas under your control. I would much like to torture Thranduil with the sight." Her voice was even and cold, with an underlying hint of mad glee - finally, she could taunt and mock Thranduil and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it!

 

Tauriel felt the presence stronger now and dared a turn of her head to look behind her. The hood of her cloak flew off, her long red hair flying behind her like fire. It was clearly Thranduil, in the form of a great white elk, and he was gaining on her. She had glanced upon this form before on her patrols, and he clearly thought he might outsmart her looking for her cloaked as such. Unfortunately for the King, Tauriel was smarter than that, and far more observant than he might have thought. She urged her own mount faster with her voice and her legs. The Golden Wood was just ahead. The stretch of plains between her and the forest was growing smaller by the moment, and her mount clearly sensed the chase of the elk behind him. Raising his tail, eyes rolling slightly in fear, the horse picked up speed, at this point fearing for its own life.

 

She took a sharp turn through a narrow stretch of trees, one that was barely wide enough for them to pass through mounted, hoping this path would bide her some time. The antlers of an elk were far wider than the body of a horse. Tauriel easily navigated her way to the tall tree that housed the council room towards the top and dismounted, pulling Legolas off in her arms. That was when the Prince stirred, his eyes glazed and slightly crossed, but he was becoming aware. She needed to hurry. Even in an inhibited state she feared Legolas could easily overcome her.

 

"GUARDS!" Tauriel shouted, summoning several Galadhrim to take hold of the Prince and guide him up to the council room as she followed swiftly behind. She was nearly giddy with excitement. This was all working exactly as Galadriel had shown her in her vision.

 

Once they had reached the top, Tauriel motioned for the Galadhrim to drop the Prince at Galadriel's feet in an unceremonious 'plop'. She bowed deeply to the Lady of the Wood, smiling with an almost sick joy at her. "He is not far, my Lady."

 

Thranduil saw as they approached Lòrien that it would be nigh on impossible for him to navigate in his enraged state - though the thought of goring the Galadhrim to death when they stood in his way was an exciting prospect. Tauriel disappeared into the woods before he could blink, and with an undignified grunt he dug his front legs into the ground, vaulting over in a flip that found his elven form landing soundly on two feet. Using the momentum he'd built Thranduil flipped through branches and leaves, making his way high up using only proximity awareness and natural sense of the trees to find his way to a nearby guard post. The blonde elf sitting atop the nest of branches saw a white flash of what soon turned out to be a Sindarin ninja king whose reflexes were faster than her bow arm. Before she could raise the alarm he booted her out of the tree, setting his sights on the walkway that lead deeper into the forest.

 

Ah, but someone else had seen him and many elves were chittering to one and other, high pitched voices raised in terror. They had seen Thranduil fight before, as most of Galadriel's guards had been at the Battle of the Last Alliance, backing up any wood-elves they saw. Nobody wanted to cross him - few could keep their eyes on the white blur dashing about. Sharp twigs whipped at Thranduil's face but he did not care, his cheeks had seen worse treatment in his lifetime.

 

Meanwhile Galadriel circled Legolas like a vulture, cutting a sharp figure against the white light coming from the lamps nearby. Her shadow was a tall and cruel thing, placing darkness over the prince where she stood. "You have done well, Tauriel." she spoke aloud, taking her eyes from Legolas to address her loyal spy "Legolas will prove an excellent turning point if Thranduil refuses to obey me."

 

Galadriel pursed her lips together, stifling a hysterical chuckle that welled up from deep within. "Do not fight each other, children of the woods." she said smoothly, voice as calm and serene as ever. "You are not gathered here today to spill each other's blood."

 

Feeling Thranduil's presence grow nearer until the trees shook violently, Galadriel was about to call Celeborn to witness a little bit of sadistic entertainment when suddenly the nearest guard fell out of the treetops, landing with a definite 'SMACK' on the ground before her. With a strong, white-knuckled grip on their neck was Thranduil, knelt with one knee bent and the other having cracked the guard's lower spine in two. Surfing on the Galadhrim would not offend their Lady, he hoped. But when he saw the look on her face, all care for what Galadriel thought seeped out like the blood coming from beneath him.

 

"Oh dear." said Galadriel, cruel eyes glinting with mirth "It seems the mad King of Mirkwood has come to visit."

Thranduil snarled at her and rose into a majestic stance of confidence and power, the edges of his white robes stained dark red.

"What are you doing with my guard-captain and son?!" he shouted, not bothering with the usual elven grace and respect. He was of the woods, a Sinda from among the Silvan. Naturally, he could screech like an enraged redneck if he wanted to.

 

"Explain for him." she mentally told Tauriel, grinning at the Elvenking.

 

"Adar..." Legolas spun about, shocked by the entrance the Mirkwood King made. And it was quite the entrance Thranduil made. The poor Galadhrim beneath him had met a cruel fate, and Thranduil had paved a path with blood for the next poor elf who would enter the council room. Legolas was truly confused now.... blood had not been spilled in Lothlorien for a millennia, especially not an elf's blood. This was unheard of.

 

"What in all of Arda is going on?" Legolas growled.

 

Tauriel stepped forward, a smirk plastered on her face, her eyes golden and wild as he swiftly placed the tip of her blade to Thranduil's throat, forcing him away from Galadriel and closing in on him, guiding where he might step. "Now, this is not the proper way to address your Queen, _Elvenking_..." She sneered. "Remove your filthy hands from her and stand down or your son's blood will be spilled for you to watch, drop by drop, before we remove your despicable head from your shoulders."

 

Tauriel stepped forward, and just as Legolas made a move to jump her, several Galadhrim were upon him, restraining him. "You're mad!" He shouted.

 

Tauriel just smiled, shaking her head and continuing to advance on the King, moving the tip of her blade upwards and slapping the side of his face with the flat of it to emphasize her dominance in the situation. "Perhaps a bit, but your father is deserving, Legolas. There are crimes he has committed you shall never understand. He is no _King_ of mine."

 

"And she is no Queen of mine!" snapped Thranduil, eyes tinted mauve as he forcibly restrained his rage. _She died long ago_ , he thought. This entire situation was one of the most ridiculous he had been in for centuries. His son was restrained, his once adopted daughter now rogue guard captain was slapping him with her blade, and the fairest elven lady in Middle Earth looked ready to smack a hoe if anyone said a word against her.

"Get away from me, you deranged fool." he snarled, face twitching at how close that blade was to where age-old wounds were covered by mere glamor spells. Gods, his face hurt now. "Stop that at once!"

 

He was being backed into a corner, or rather the edge of the platform they were stood on. Thranduil had not missed the threat to Legolas and glanced over to him, feeling his entire body begin to shake with the urge to rush over and sweep him away.

 

Galadriel giggled into her hand, finding Thranduil's predicament absolutely hilarious.

"You will do as I say, Thranduil. Or your son will die. Simple enough to understand for you?" She knew Thranduil well, and he hated to have his intelligence mocked. Not as much as his appearance, but all the same it brought the reaction she wanted - his eyes changed to a darker purple, streaked with red. _'Yes, fight back.'_ she taunted his mind _'Slice your cheek open by the hand which will not stay, and be cut to pieces before your son. See what your temper has wrought.'_

Tauriel snarled and lunged at Thranduil, grabbing the King by the collar of his robes, pulling his face close enough to hers so that he might feel her breath. Her eyes sparkled something unnatural, and it was clear if you were close enough that she was under the influence of some sort of dark magic. "You. Will. Kneel..." Her blade was pressed against his throat now and she pressed down with all of her might, a Galadhrim behind her kicking the back of his knee to try and force him to lose his footing.

 

Legolas would not stand idly by while his father was overcome by these clearly mad elves. Where was Celeborn? Where was anyone of reason? Had the Dark Lord returned? This was not the Elven Lady who sheltered and protected the Fellowship months prior. The Prince forced his shoulder into one of the Galadhrim holding him, knocking the wind from the elf and grabbing his blade swiftly. With a flash of metal Tauriel felt that blade zing past her ear, Legolas' eyes wild. "Release him..." The Prince looked to Galadriel and growled. "What sort of foul magic is this? Have you lost your mind?"

" _Over my dead body."_ Thranduil hissed at Tauriel, his pride willing him to die before he submit to anybody. In a flash Legolas was near, and Thranduil wondered if his mind was hallucinating a favourable outcome. Ah no, the pressing of the blade at his neck reminded him he was still very much in peril. Like a strong tree braving a storm he stiffened all over, locking himself into a firmly standing position in which he held his head as high as he could without his throat being cut. Mentally he willed Legolas to be still for the moment; Tauriel was pressing into Thranduil's skin with a blade so sharp he could literally feel his veins recoiling from it. His son could be rash and quick to act, and the King would not favour such behaviour now. Praying to the Valar, he hoped someone with reason would come by soon. Celeborn had loved him, right? Where was that silver-haired elf with words of wisdom and a hand to stay his crazy wife?

Galadriel scowled.

"So the proud Elvenking is too stupid to recognise his own predicament?" she spat, all air of grace vanishing as her eyes grew dark with malice "Very well then. Tauriel, do not cut his throat. **_Cut off his hair."_**

"With pleasure, my Queen..." Tauriel smirked, ignoring Legolas' blade and bringing it to Thranduil's luscious silvery locks that he prided himself in so greatly. They were a great source of the King's beauty and pride and she would happily take that from him.

By some small miracle or the will of the Valar, Celeborn stood in the doorway of the council room, looking down with horror and disgust first at the streaks of blood on the floor and the Mirkwood King in a terrible predicament with what felt like dozens of blades drawn. His wife stood, raging mad in the center of the room. Green eyes widened in shock at the whole picture before him. The last few weeks had been strange, and Celeborn did not want to admit it to many, but he had noticed Galadriel becoming hungry with power. He did not know what had possessed her, but he found himself living in fear of her irrational and unpredictable behavior, and the sight of the entire Mirkwood royal family in peril before him in his realm was just the icing on the cake. Seeing Thranduil in such a state was the last thing Celeborn wanted.

But Celeborn knew better than to aggravate his wife, so his tone was gentle and silvery sweet. "Galadriel, dearest... What in Arda's name do you think you are doing?" He placed a hand on Tauriel's blade and carefully moved it to the side. "This is not how we treat our welcomed guests..."

Tauriel's eyes flashed in warning at the Elf Lord as her blade was moved away and she looked to Galadriel for orders. She would cut this one down, too.

Galadriel was sure Tauriel could hear her hushed, private thoughts of ' _kill him kill him cut his hair then slay my husband aahhahahahaha~_ ' before she shut her mind off, taking a deep breath.

"Celeborn." she addressed him coldly, moving one slim hand behind her neck to adjust her hair, which had fallen over her shoulders. "Why must you interfere with my private matters?"

Thranduil felt about to faint, and slowly began inching towards Celeborn away from Tauriel as best he could. Her blade had been high enough to chop so much of his hair off, the pain would have killed him. Elven hair, especially that which was as old as Thranduil's was very sensitive and could not be cut lest its owner die. Hands in his hair brought pleasure, but blades anywhere near it made him panic.

"They are not guests." said Galadriel "They are here to serve my will and nothing more."

 

Thranduil had moved from Tauriel far enough that he could see the darkness surrounding her, realising at last she was under a spell. Of course. Her eyes were like molten gold, filled with hatred and an unseen helplessness he knew was there. He had to get away.

"Legolas..." he whispered "I want you to get out of here." his voice was barely there, eyes transitioning to their usual faded grey. He was hiding his fear, but it was paining him greatly to do so. Thranduil's crown slipped from his head as he leaned against Celeborn, trying to act casual and disguise the fact that he could barely stand, how weak he felt.

 

Celeborn was grateful that Thranduil seemed to realize his plan and allowed the Elvenking to lean on him. The elf he remembered was strong, and confidant, with an incredibly attractive air of poise about him, but the one in his arms now was shaking like a leaf. He toed the fallen crown towards himself, picking it up casually and slowly. "My love, so silly you are these days..." It was clear as Legolas watched, grateful for Celeborn's sudden presence, that the Elf Lord of Lorien was just about as nervous as the rest of them were about Galadriel's incredibly strange behavior. "Now, why do you not let me talk to the King and perhaps we can work some sort of... arrangement out." He was backing slowly away with Thranduil now, intent on getting him out of this situation, even if it were only temporary. His wife had been unrelenting as of late. "This is all so much information for him to process. He needs time. I can explain things to him."

 

Legolas' eyes darted to Thranduil, his heart pounding. His veins were flooded with boiling blood and he wanted to slaughter each elf in the room. He connected with his father's mind, reaching out to him. _I will not leave you... Do not ask this of me..._

 

"I have barely told him what I want." smirked Galadriel, "But if you wish for some alone-time with him, I will grant you that." From her mind she told Celeborn _'use_ protection', assuming he was going off to bang Thranduil as she'd suspected in the past. Meanwhile Thranduil had gripped onto the back of Celeborn's robes, steadying himself as he closed his eyes. Legolas's words came clear in his mind, and he concentrated entirely on the soothing, melodic tones his son's inner voice sent floating through his aching head. He needed wine, and close hugs to get over all this.

 _"I love you, Legolas."_ he mentally whispered with a voice so strained it was hardly his own. _"If I die, you must save yourself."_

 

Galadriel looked to Tauriel, and commanded her to stand close by. "You will have your way with the King in time.." she said softly "I have much use for him yet."

_"I love you, Adar..."_

 

Legolas grit his teeth and watched helplessly as Celeborn guided the King from the Council Room, leaving the Prince with Tauriel and Galadriel. He hated himself for being able to do nothing, for Thranduil _willing_ him to do nothing, once again for his father's fear of Legolas getting killed. He was typically so competent, so confident in such dire situations, but this one was entirely different. He had never had to face his kin like this, especially not one so powerful as the Lady Galadriel. He felt his eyes well up with tears he would not let fall, lest he show either elf weakness, but Legolas prayed that this was not a last goodbye. He continued to grip the Galadhrim's sore in his hand, breathing heavily, holding it pointing at both Tauriel and Galadriel, and doing nothing.

 

Tauriel stood by her lady's side and smiled wickedly at the Prince. "And what is to be done with the Princeling then if we must wait for Thranduil? I grow impatient..." Her golden eyes flashed at Legolas, noting how distraught he was. She looked to Galadriel. _"Perhaps that was an even better move, separating them... They will each be more malleable this way. Legolas will be easy to break."_

Celeborn made haste with Thranduil down the stairs, past the curious eyes of his Galadhrim and to his own rooms in a separate tree nearby, practically dragging the Elvenking from his mad wife. "I do not know where to begin with all of this, Thranduil..." He muttered under his breath. "But this was not how I expected your next visit to me to turn out. You have come at a poor time."

 

A pair of Galadhrim guarded the entrance to his royal flet and Celeborn waved a hand at them, willing them to stand down as they passed. He had been sleeping separate from Galadriel for the last few weeks, for the Lady of the Wood did not seem to sleep, but instead, looked at her mirror throughout the night, delighting in whatever visions it showed her. He guided Thranduil down gently on his bed, moving to pour him a glass of water. This particular room was reserved for guests so it was beautiful but simply, with only a bed, a table, and a small desk at the edge of the room. Celeborn reached out to hand it to him. "You need to get out of here."

 

Thranduil refused the glass and all but collapsed into Celeborn, pressing his face into the elf's chest. "I cannot leave my son." he could not stop trembling, eyes wide and clearly frightened as he clung to the pillar of reason before him. Celeborn had saved him from an unspeakable fate, and was now offering freedom. But freedom was not worth it without Legolas by his side. He would stay imprisoned for eternity if only he had Legolas with him.

"Why is this happening...?" he whispered, looking up at Celeborn with misty green desperation in his eyes. "I never wanted any of this to happen..." Thranduil hadn't done anything to Galadriel - blood had been spilled in his rage and lust for battle, words had been exchanged as he could barely control his tongue - and now he just wanted to crawl into Celeborn's arms and be absorbed into nothingness.

 

Such a thing would barely suffice - for Galadriel had plans.

"Legolas.." she purred, striding towards the prince with long, silent steps "Such a pretty little thing, and so brave..." Her fingers took a pale glow to them as she pressed one under Legolas's chin, tilting his head up and connecting with his mind "I have a task for you."

What she said next came not from her lips, but through their connection.

 _"I wish to have the ring Vilya from the house of Elrond, over the mountains... in Imladris. You of all folk know how to get there... As does your father, I hope."_ She watched carefully for a reaction on his face, taking in the raw emotion and loving every piece.

 _"You will take the ring from him, by force or will, and bring it to me before first snowfall next year."_ A few months should be enough. Winter was reserved for another task... And spring was to be the time of punishment if they failed. _"If your father refuses, I will send you to kill Lord Elrond with no assistance at all. If he agrees, he will go alone... and I will keep you here, as part of our bargain."_

She then gripped him by the back of his hair, their faces suddenly close.

" _Understood?"_

It pained Celeborn to see the fear and sorrow written all over Thranduil's fair features. The Elf who had spent many a night in his bed had been wilder, much more carefree, full of sass and snark. He had loved the Mirkwood King, but he was bound to Galadriel, so a deeper bond could never be pursued. It was not possible, no matter how deeply Celeborn wished it, especially in these dark days. The Lorien Lord knew how much Legolas meant to the King, for he was all Thranduil had when his wife was killed. He knelt down before Thranduil and reached out to cup his cheek, carefully wiping away a streak of Elven blood from his cheek. The Elvenking's robes were soaked in crimson and it was quite a horrific sight. He barked to his guards to bring clean garments for Thranduil. He pressed the King's crown back into Thranduil's hands.

 

"If you care for your life then you will leave this place. I will not watch you die... You will meet a death here far more horrific than anything you could even imagine." Celeborn shuddered to think, closing his eyes. Some evil force had taken control of his wife, and he feared that her ring of Power, Nenya, had turned on her. "When the Ring of Power was brought here by the Fellowship, Galadriel nearly lapsed. The Fellowship stayed here too long. I fear her own ring began to absorb the power of the One Ring." Celeborn was not certain, however, for he feared her now, and tried to stay out of her way. "There is nothing you can do, Thranduil. The evil must run its course. You must leave before it consumes you as well." Celeborn looked up at Thranduil, frowning. "It will not be long before I am taken by her madness. My dreams have been dark as of late."

 

Legolas felt as though all of his limbs were tied when Galadriel moved towards him, and there was nothing he could do to move. He was completely under the Lady of the Wood's control, and was deeply fearful because of it. The connection with his mind caused his head to throb, and upon her words Legolas was certain this was a great evil speaking with him now. Kill Elrond? She wanted Vilya, his ring of power... and soon... there was a third. One that Mithrandir possessed. _"You are mad..."_

 

Eyes as dark as night held her gaze. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, it was a look that could kill, but he was certain it had no effect on Galadriel. _"And if *I* refuse?"_

 

Thranduil knew Celeborn spoke the truth. But damn the world if he was going to think the Elvenking would leave his son at the mercy of two mad she-elves! And what did he mean by dark dreams?

"Don't tell me.. You too..." he whispered, peering into Celeborn's clear eyes to see what he could read. His old friend and lover was not yet changed, but there was something akin to a murky sorrow one could not simply just resist. He was being hurt every day he had to watch his wife's descent into madness. And soon, he too would follow.

"Oh, Celeborn..." he offered a look of understanding so sincere it needed actions to couple with. Gently he wrapped his arms around his friend and pressed his face into Celeborn's neck, hugging him with what waning strength he had left. "I cannot leave... for Galadriel drew me here with a purpose. If we negotiate... hopefully things will improve. All I need is to agree to what she will say, and take Legolas... Then run back to Mirkwood. It's all I can think of."

Bad things happened when he left his home. Nothing could reach Thranduil, Legolas or their people within their fortress. For the fortunes of the world may rise and fall, but in Thranduil's Halls they would endure.

 

Meanwhile Galadriel spoke to Legolas with her grin becoming more unnerving as time went by. _"If you refuse? Then I will torture your father until you agree. Nobody will defy me, let alone some prissy little princeling. I will **break** him."_

Celeborn embraced his friend, kissing his cheek and pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. His eyes darkened with fear at Thranduil's proposition. "No, no... she wants more from you. If you go back on your word she will find you, and Valar knows what will happen then. I will find you. Thranduil, I do not have much time, and neither do you. If you run alone, you might escape. Sail, while there is still time. I do not know if I can help Legolas. She needs someone to do her bidding. Someone who would not be suspected."

 

He ran his thumb across Thranduil's lips, remembering the nights they spent together when Celeborn travelled, or those times the King would enter Lorien. Those days have passed, though he missed them greatly. They were lighter times, happier times. But they were only a memory now. "Please, if you care anything for me, for what we shared... for your son, you will leave. Do not make me beg you."

 

Legolas' heart felt like it was being torn in two, and he knew he could only agree at this point. Tauriel had moved her blade over his heart, as though Galadriel's presence wasn't enough. His ears were ringing and his body felt hot. He knew Galadriel's words were true. He could not let this happen. He would agree... anything to save his father.

 

_"I suppose I have no choice then. But you will fail in the end. Fear will only keep those loyal to you for so long."_

 

Galadriel knew Legolas had submit, and broke their mental connection.

"I knew you would agree." she smiled with false sweetness towards him, and gestured for Tauriel to step back. "You will get the ring for me, and return here as soon as possible. Your father will be free to go, but never to see you again." Turning her back on Legolas she folded her hands behind her back and walked to the stairs, where Celeborn had disappeared with Thranduil. "He will try to run. We shall let him go."

 

Thranduil could not refuse Celeborn any longer. For he respected him, and held great love in his heart for the Lord of Lorien who had saved his life. Deep inside he knew they could never couple again in warmth and safety - the times of the world were changing, despite Sauron being gone and the balance of life restored. All too quickly, Thranduil would lose Legolas just as soon as he'd gotten him back.

Suddenly he felt something. His son's mind was open, nearby and very distressed. Almost instantly he worked his way in, calling to him.

_"Legolas, iôn nín. I have no choice but to leave. What is she asking of you?"_

If they could form a plan, there was the slightest bit of hope that they could both escape to far land where Galadriel could hopefully never find them. Celeborn had suggested he sail, but Thranduil would not leave Middle-Earth without his son. As far as he knew there were no ships waiting, spies everywhere, and his people in Mirkwood would not stand to be abandoned. He would not flee like an honourless coward. Thranduil considered himself the last and greatest Elvenking on Arda. A leader of his people, their starlit beacon of hope - no matte how irritable and stubborn he was. He would figure something out. With the help of his son. His eyes glazed over as he placed his hands calmly beside him, clearly engaging in mental conversation. Thranduil would leave soon, hopefully in cleaner clothes and a better frame of mind.

 

Celeborn was relieved that Thranduil began to agree with him, and when a servant brought in clean garb, a grey tunic of the Galadhrim and dark leggings, he set it on the bed beside the King. It would at least be a little less conspicuous than what he was wearing and Thranduil would hopefully not be sticking out like a sore thumb. He dismissed his guards and turned to the King. Celeborn saw that he was speaking to another through a mental connection, and he could only guess that it was Legolas, who looked to be in a worse situation than the King had when they had left. He knew he had to remove Thranduil from the situation first, however, because he was the one the Galadriel wanted most, and the one her spy Tauriel held by her spell, wanted to kill in cold blood for her.

 

He stepped outside of the talan and murmured something to one of his guards to ready a horse for the King.

 

Legolas watched Galadriel and Tauriel begin to depart, knowing he had no choice but to agree, lest he put his father's life at risk. His hands were shaking at the prospect of it all, and he felt to his knees, his head in his hands. He would not be a Kinslayer. Not if he could help it. He would not take part in this madness. Feeling a pleasant warmth in his mind, he felt Thranduil reach for him. Legolas reached back. " _Galadriel wants Vilya. She wants me to take Elrond's life and bring her the ring before the next snow falls in winter. Please... you must go. She knows you will run. Go, while you still can."_

 

Legolas needed to find a way out of this mess. He had agreed, for the most part, albeit unwillingly. Perhaps he was free to go. There was still time before his duty must be completed.

 

Thranduil undressed quickly and changed into the disguising clothes, feeling a little of his power seep away as he peeled off those enchanted white robes. He had no shame for showing nudity before Celeborn - they both knew each other's bodies well, though it had been long. He slicked his hair back, sighing as he heard Legolas's voice within his mind. Calmly he answered back.

_"I want you to make for Imladris, taking the path towards the mines of Moria. I will meet you there and then we shall decide what to do. I will also be dressed in the clothes of the Galadhrim... Don't shoot me."_

 

The King then realised that Celeborn was staring at him.

"Thank you for all you have done, mellon-nín. " He made a gesture towards him, palm flat over his chest then directed outwards with a graceful sweep of his fingers. "I hope we can see each other again, in brighter times." There was hope and determination in his eyes, now an icy blue as he set his strategy at the forefront of his mind. Thranduil was ready to leave, and if all went well nobody would see him go.

 

 _"I shall meet you there, Adar."_ Legolas broke the link with his father. There was no more time for talking. Action must be taken now. Galadriel was nowhere in sight but he knew her eyes were everywhere in the forest. Tauriel had piled his weapons haphazardly in the corner of the council room and Legolas gathered them quickly. Moving towards the stairs, Legolas had a hand on his bow and another reaching back to touch the arrows that were left in his quiver, eyes darting to each Galadhrim who seemed to not even acknowledge him, to not even see him. How strange. They seemed to be under some sort of spell, but for now, Legolas was grateful that they would not stop them. They would be too many for the Prince to take all at once, especially if under the influence of Galadriel's power. Silently, he got to the foot of the stairs, grateful for the feel of the forest floor beneath his feet, grounding him. With that, he ran, as fast as his legs could carry him. Lothlorien was no place of safety for him now.

 

Celeborn made no move to hide the fact that he was staring at Thranduil as he undressed. The King's body was glorious and only got better with age. It had been a long while since he had anyone in his bed, and Thranduil beneath his sheets had been some of the best memories he had ever had. He would hold them dear, as long as he was allowed to keep his mind and sanity. He closed the distance between them, stopping Thranduil's formalities in his tracks. He gently gripped the Elvenking's cheeks, pressing his lips against Thranduil's, and his kiss was filled with an aching need and desire, desperaton and fear. He pulled back and bowed deeply to the King, one who he respected more than any other Elf in all of this world. "Go, please. Be swift. No one shall stop you. Galadriel wants you to run. She enjoys the hunt. Perhaps we will meet again"

_But not in happier times, sweet Thranduil. Good luck._

Thranduil felt himself ache with need at such emotion from Celeborn's lips - they had something between them that wasn't quite a bond, not just lust... Truly, they cared for each other. It would pain the Elvenking greatly to see his friend spiral into madness with Galadriel's influence. As if commanded, he gave one last look of longing to Celeborn before leaving - his crown on his head, no transformation this time. He also took his white robes with him, for those garments were not things he could leave lying around. Heaven knows what would happen if Galadriel tried those on.

 

The Lady of the Wood had gone to her garden, with its silver basin and all-seeing reflective pool. Dipping her face in, she sighed. Why were those Mirkwood folk so damned hard to deal with? She barely considered them as elves, how crude and rustic they were compared to her own people.

She almost inhaled the water as a vision smacked into her mind. Thranduil, riding away along the outskirts of her forest. Legolas, making his way immediately to Elrond. Something would happen between them, yet she could not see what.

Growling with suspicion she flung her head back, surroundings growing dark as her eyes glowed white. Legolas better not betray her. She had to get Gandalf on her side if he did. And that would hopefully not prove too difficult, seeing as they were deeply in love with each other. Or so Galadriel thought.

 

Meanwhile, Thranduil rode from Lorien around its edges, navigating his way towards the entrance of Moria. Passing through there would leave a few days journey to Rivendell, but he did not intend to go through. No, the moment he laid eyes upon his son he would take Legolas into his arms and haul ass back to Mirkwood, never to leave again.

 

Celeborn watched Thranduil leave and sat down on the bed where the King had just been. Placing his head in his hands he inhaled sharply, feeling his eyes well up with tears. How could he let things get so out of control so fast? He did not have the power that Galadriel had, so it was near impossible to have prevented this. He should not have allowed the Fellowship into their lands. Perhaps things would not have gone to Mount Doom in a hand basket if he had been more firm, keeping the Ring of Power from her eyes. Frodo had carried a great evil with him, one that these lands had not seen in many millennia. Apparently, his offering the Ring to her had been enough. She had a taste for complete power and had been lusting for it since. Straightening himself and wiping his eyes, the Elf Lord held his chin high as he made his way to find his wife. Perhaps there was something he could still do to stop this. He would not let his old friend suffer at her hands.

 

\--

 

Legolas had no horse to take but instead traveled on foot as fast as he could towards Moria. He shuddered when he thought of the Balrog they had faced in the mines, the stench dank, damp, and heavy with death. He was certain Orcs still lingered, but the Balrog would hopefully be of no concern since Gandalf had faced it in the shadow. He knew the most direct path there, one that should only take a few hours. He kept a lookout for his father. He would not go into the mines without them. They were a complete maze to navigate, and in the impending dark, he was not certain Thranduil could see well enough to guide himself. The Dwarvish runes did not speak the language of the Elves, and Legolas knew it would not be so easy as to find this way to the other side. But this was the only route, lest he travel north over the mountains, risking terrible weather and treacherous terrain. Time was running out. He knew he would have to warn Elrond.

 

The mountains were just ahead, and Legolas saw the crack in the rock that allowed entrance deep into the mines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel got no chill D: making up her entire plot/timeline/whatever seriously did my head in. She only gets more intense as the story continues, though eighty thousand words later she'll be kinda cast off to a more secret role. huhuhuhu


	4. 2-1 : The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter encompasses the journey of Thranduil and Legolas, along with the start of the Rivendell sub-arc.

Lothlorien was left in a nervous state of quiet, Galadhrim guards cleaning the mess of their fallen comrade at Galadriel's will, while she paced her gardens looking an absolute monster. She had all but forgotten her husband, his needs and emotions - focussing on how she could ensure Vilya would be in her hands by winter.

 

Winter was a dangerous time for elves, as they were thin wispy creatures not suited for Middle-Earth's brutal cold. Thranduil and his silvan folk in particular went into hibernation during winter, huddling up together like wolves in a den for warmth. If he and Legolas didn't get back home by then, the prince might enter Mirkwood carrying his father's frozen corpse. Legolas had a tolerance to the elements Thranduil had never seen before in any elf, and was proud he had raised such a strong son.

 

Now, he hoped Legolas had the stamina to make his way to their meeting place quicker than a horse could run. Thranduil had taken the long way around and as such arrived half an hour after Legolas, cursing himself nonstop for being unable to detect his son's camouflaging green clothes in the natural environment.

"Legolas!" he called, trying to sense his son and not panic "Where are you?"

Celeborn walked silently towards the gardens, cursing to himself about the state of things. One of their own was dead now, and it all could have been prevented if Celeborn had not let this mess begin in the first place and snowball out of control. Galadriel had not shed a tear for the life lost as she once would, one of the most caring creatures he had ever met. Her beauty and her love of all things living was what had drawn Celeborn towards her in the first place. She was still beautiful, but it was a cold and evil beauty that Celeborn could hardly look upon. She had turned cold and cruel, with no regard for life. She wanted one thing, and that one thing was something Celeborn could not, and would not give. He stopped dead in his track at the sights of her pacing like some mad living dead thing and turned away. He could not approach her, he would not. There was no reasoning with her.

 

Legolas remained hidden in the shadows of the rock for now, watching with keen Elven eyes for his father. He did not know how many of Galadriel's spies were looming about, for he was now sure, with Tauriel under her control, that he reach was far and wide in these lands. Upon seeing the horse galloping towards him, long silver hair flying, Legolas could have easily mistaken Thranduil for a Galadhrim on his tail, for grey his cloak was, the colors of the Golden Wood.

 

He felt the King's presence however, and sensed urgency in Thranduil's voice. He moved from the shadows immediately, and out into the space of land where the shadow of the mountain did not touch. He raised his hand to the King, flagging him down. "Here!" His heart was in his throat. He was certain that Thranduil would have been caught and killed. "Adar..."

Thranduil leapt from his horse and sprinted towards Legolas, barreling into him like a widow seeing her husband return from war. "Oh, iôn nín.." he whispered, gripping his son in his arms tight enough to squeeze his life out. The next words he spoke in his mind were shrill apologies, blaming himself for all that had happened - he had not played this right, taken enough care, and even though they were free they were both essentially screwed... Thranduil kissed Legolas's cheek in unending gratitude that they were finally reunited, having feared the worst of eternal separation between them.

 

They had two options now. Warn Elrond and prepare for war - or run back to Mirkwood and hide until the end of time. Thranduil did not want to release his son yet, and stood properly with Legolas in his arms. "What shall we do?" he asked, face to face with his prince. "We can go back to safety... Or journey to Imladris." This was rare, for Thranduil to give anyone a choice in what they wanted to do. But he had made too many bad decisions in recent times. Today, he would trust his son.

 

Legolas was nearly knocked off his feet as Thranduil barreled into him but stood his ground, gripping his father tightly. He breathed in his scent, grateful that they were together again, each relatively unscathed. He pressed kisses to each of his father's cheeks and once to his lips, holding him tighter still. He smiled at the King, but his brow was tinged with sadness and the weight of Galadriel's quest. "You have no reason to apologize, Adar... But I shall not apologize for going after you against your will." No, he certainly would not. If Thranduil had gone alone... Legolas did not want to think about what would happen.

 

He shook his head quickly when Thranduil suggested racing back to Mirkwood. "No... no... that is not an option. There is only one thing we must do." Legolas glanced back at the Dwarven Halls behind him, dark and deep as they were. He swore to himself that he would never set foot in that accursed place again, but they had no choice.

 

"Warn Elrond and prepare for war. You must trust me..." Legolas pressed his forehead to the King's, holding his gaze firmly. "If we go to Mirkwood she will find us and destroy everything in her path. You cannot cower away from what is at hand... not again..."

Thranduil sighed. "You truly are a courageous soul." he said, finding his son to be so much like himself - It was their family history to fight for their people and safety, and disappear when all was well again. Thranduil would have been called a coward by his father, being not so reckless to jump into battle. However he knew Legolas was right. Galadriel had to be defeated, and they could not do it alone. Furthermore, Elrond was one of his greatest friends he had known since childhood - they had grown up in Gil-Galad's royal court together, until Elrond took his position as herald and Thranduil was sent back to the Greenwood, his tuition in regal matters complete. He would not forsake him. Ever.

 

"We cannot take the horse into the mines..." said Thranduil "But if you wish for a mount once we are on the other side of these mountains, it can be arranged." He resisted the urge to explain to Legolas _"You can ride me_ " and hoped he got the hint. Traveling long distance as an elk was much easier for Thranduil than any other way - he could navigate better and cover more ground with greater speed. However if Legolas wanted to walk by his side and take a few extra days journey, by all means he would walk with him.

 

He looked towards the mine entrance, gripping Legolas's hand. It went without saying that the prince would have to guide him.

 

Legolas looked back at Thranduil's horse. It was their nature to unbridle it and remove all traces of confinement before sending the animal on their way in situations such as this. The Fellowship had done so many times before. There were many parts of Middle Earth that were not meant to be traveled upon by horseback. He removed a satchel attached to the horse's saddle and tossed it to the King. They would need that. It would be a place for the King's robe and crown, and luckily it contained a flask for water and some lembas bread. There was nothing they could eat in the mines, and traveling would take a few days if they were lucky. He sent Thranduil's mount off back towards the forest.

 

He smirked slightly, knowing now exactly what the King meant but hoping the lighthearted teasing could get both of their minds off of what was at stake. "Oh, I do believe I shall require a mount on the other side of these mountains. Several days without riding shall be a chore." Legolas cocked an eyebrow suggestively at the King. He knew there was no way the transformation would be possible for most of the mines. Places were too narrow, too unstable... the shadow would easily recognize such a bright and powerful form.

 

Holding Thranduil's hand tightly he guided him forth, and the dankness of the mines hit the Prince hard. The air was thin and stale. It was horribly dark. Every footstep they made seemed to echo loudly. It would be difficult to travel unnoticed here. "Adar..." Legolas was dragging his hands lightly along the rock of the walls, trying to feel his way around. Elvish eyes were not so good in this light. "Do you have a light you can use?" Thranduil was well-versed in magic, and Legolas desperately hoped there was some way he could create a little light which they could travel by.

Thranduil tightened his grip on Legolas's hand, and concentrated hard on the essence of the daylight they had just left. These mines were not a place he liked to be in. Such darkness weighed heavily on his spirit, and in situations like these he had to channel what energy he could to lighten their surroundings. Literally.

He opened his eyes wide, and a brilliant white light surged from beneath his eyelids. Like a torch in the dark, it illuminated the path before them for at least twenty meters. The only drawback to this was that Thranduil could not see at all while using his eyeballs as laser beams.

"Is this bright enough?" he asked Legolas, straightening up so the light went a little further. "You will have to guide me, as I cannot see a thing."

 

Thranduil had never been down in any mines before and could feel fear creeping in as they walked. Terrible creatures lurked nearby; he could sense it. Very acutely trained was he to the servants of evil - he had seen the horrors of Mordor, and though Sauron was gone he could not shake the trauma and rage the sight of an Orc brought to him. The king did not want to fight - but if his bloodlust was awakened by danger in the dark, there was little he could do to stop it. His body was strung tight like a bow, tense but not yet quivering with stress.

Thranduil never ceased to amaze the Prince, and when his eyes lit the way, Legolas' grip tightened on the King's hand, gently yet firmly guiding each step of the way. It was easy to trip here, and some of the bridges were narrow with no railing, so it would be incredibly easy to topple off the sides into the abyss below. Thranduil was literally in every way a weapon, completely and utterly devastating to anything that might cross his path. Legolas was certainly glad the King was on his side, for if not, he would be royally screwed, to say the least.

 

"I have you, Adar... trust me." He could feel Thranduil's tension, see it in how he carried himself, felt it in the cold sweat of his palms. They made their way carefully ahead, and Legolas had a remnant of memory from his travels here to help navigate. "You know..." He whispered in the dark. "Even Mithrandir could not guide us through some of these tunnels. Sometimes, he merely guessed..." Legolas' mouth snapped shut. It was probably no time to tell Thranduil about how desperately lost he already felt. But this was the only way. They would find their way out. They had to, lest they perish in the dark here.

 

"Lucky for you, the Dwarves are all dead, so you needn't worry about their poor hospitality." But the goblins weren't... nor were the orcs. There was a particularly narrow path that was not for the faint of heart... it was narrow and rocky and one had to squeeze through carefully between the walls of rough stone. Legolas tightened his grip on Thranduil's hand, making sure to not look him in the face, for his eyes were blinding, as he made his way first. "I cannot imagine how the Dwarves we able to navigate some of these parts..."

"N..nn.." was all Thranduil offered as a response, blinking hard for a second and causing the light to flicker. He felt as if his head would catch fire, but paid it no mind. He had not needed to use magic like this in so long. Legolas's commentary here and there eased his mind a little - he remembered when Legolas was younger and Thranduil could not see at all after the battle - the prince would explain their surroundings in detail, a habit that showed itself now and then. He loved his Captain Obvious son, and could not live without the sound of his voice. Legolas made for an excellent leader, and Thranduil squeezed through the rocky crevice while keeping himself balanced as best he could.

 

Their footsteps and breathing echoed in these dark halls, unusual for elves who were normally able to go about their daily lives completely unnoticed by the rest of the world. Thranduil could sense from the echoes that there were pillars around them, and the space they were in was very vast.

"What can you see, iôn nín?" he asked, stepping closer to Legolas as he shakily exhaled. If he did not regulate his breathing, the darkness would suffocate him until he began to panic. Tunnels and hallways in his realm were comforting; musty mines filled with evil things were not.

Legolas gently thumbed the top of Thranduil's hand, carefully stroking the soft skin in an attempt to ease his fears. The tunnel began to wide, and Legolas raised his hand and still the King behind him. "Stop casting your lights, Adar..." There was a flickering light in the tunnel ahead and a crumbling set of stone steps before them. "I see fire..." Legolas lowered his voice and pressed his hand to the hilt of his dagger. It was then that there was a sharp screech in the air and a loud shuffling of footsteps that filled the air. It bounced off the stone and it was difficult to pinpoint how close the source was, though Legolas had a feeling it was up ahead. They were at a fork now, and the stairs leading downward were lit with flame, the source of the noise. The stairs leading upwards were dark, and right now, the darkness would provide their safety.

 

"Goblins..." The Prince murmured beneath his breath. There were shadows now, distorted by the firelight. Legolas could not count how many Goblins were traveling the halls, but by the sound there were probably more than they could take on. It sounded like they were patrolling, and Legolas was grateful that they had not been discovered yet, for then they would need to be swift. With one Elf that could see just barely in the dark, and the other who was practically blind, their tale would not end well. "Come on!" He jerked the King forward by his hand and made his way up the crumbling steps, trying to be careful not to slip on the ground that was giving up beneath him with each and every step.

Thranduil blinked out his lights in a flash, and pressed a hand to his forehead. When he regained what little sight he had, the first thing he saw from his open left eye was not the darkness it was used to - but blurry orange light in a sea of black. His breath caught in his throat and a high pitched whimper escaped - Thranduil was absolutely _terrified_ of fire.

The trembling in his hands grew more violent and he shut his eyes, unwilling to see anything further. The King stumbled up the steps after his son, hearing nothing but the distant screeches and snarls of the goblins passing where they had been standing moments ago. His heart thumped in his chest like an army marching to its doom, quick and frightened and not wanting to continue. Soon he found himself clutching Legolas with both hands, needing to feel the strong, living presence of the prince beside him - to ground him to reality, and prevent him from lapsing into a horrific flashback that lurked at the edges of his mind.

 

For a time Thranduil did not move, breath coming in ragged gasps and body quivering as he leaned on Legolas. They had reached the top of the stairs, grey rubble and fading firelight all that was left below. He was trying his hardest to be calm, but when worked up like this he felt either to faint or break down.

 _‘I'm too old for this shit..’_ he thought to himself, slowly opening his eyes.

Legolas pressed his finger to the King's lips to keep him quiet, shielding Thranduil with his body and pressing it against the rock behind them, deeper into the shadows and out of sight from the patrolling goblins. He knew his father's fear of fire well and held him tightly to reassure him. _"They are just torches, Adar... Goblins fight with arrows, not fire. It is only to help guide their way."_

Once the patrolling group had passed, Legolas held the King's arm and walked closely to him. "The next room that we can find that seems safe, we should rest for a while. We cannot lose strength. Just a little further, Adar, and we will be safe for the night." Night, day, Legolas had no idea what time it was. It was like never ending night in these Valar forsaken mines. Legolas knew his father could not take much more this day. If their trip was delayed slightly, so be it. Legolas was not concerned for it, but much more so for his father's sanity. Asking an elf to walk through such darkness was the cruelest thing one could do for this race. This environment was not fit for their kind.

Thranduil would not have made it were it not for Legolas, and soon they found a layer of slightly fresher air up the stairs and to the right, in a room of pure stone with absolutely nothing in it. The darkness was all-consuming, causing Thranduil to cast his lights once more. However they were a little dim, and slightly tinged with red. He did not feel as much of his former strength now; the anger he possessed in Lorien had all but melted into chilling fear that shook his body.

 _'Stop with your weakness.'_ he told himself _'It is just the dark. You are not an elfling, you are not afraid...'_

 

Thranduil slumped against the wall, still holding Legolas's hand and shivering slightly. He felt hot and cold, barely able to stand until he composed himself. Sliding down to the floor he curled up, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling so there could be a little light in the claustrophobic darkness.

The room gave off a slightly dimmer glow now, and Legolas knew Thranduil was losing his strength. He knelt down beside the King who was practically curled into a ball now, and stroked his back. These next few days in Moria would prove challenging. Legolas fumbled in the satchel they had brought for the lembas bread and broke off a small part for his father, pressing it into the King's hand. "Please, Adar, eat... you need to keep up your strength."

 

Legolas stood and felt his way around the room for something, anything that could give them light. Stumbling about slightly in the dark, Legolas felt a short yet sturdy stick and grabbed it. At least, he hoped it was a stick. For all he knew it could have been a femur, for the mines were full of the dead, Dwarves, orcs, and Goblins alike. He moved back to Thranduil and tore part of his own tunic off, wrapping it deftly around the end of the "stick" to create a makeshift torch, and scraped it swiftly along the wall of the room. When that did nothing, he looked towards Thranduil and frowned.

 

"Do not scream, Adar..." Legolas warned, and brought his torch a few inches closer to the King's eyes than Thranduil would have wanted. The heat being exuded from them was extraordinary, and the torch lit before his eyes. Legolas promptly removed it and coaxed the flame a little more so they wouldn't lose their light and sat beside the King, holding the torch so it would give them just a little bit of an amber glow in this room, but not enough to hopefully drawn attention from anything living in the dark.

Thranduil nibbled at the piece of Lembas his son offered, and knew partially he was losing his strength for lack of sustenance. He was used to the lavish lifestyle of a King who could eat anything whenever he wanted, the day's activities supplemented by wine and snacks. Traveling without a convoy of elves to look after him and fight the evils of the world was something Thranduil had never done before. Even after the battles he had seen, there were always a few with the strength to look up to their King and provide him with what they could. Now, all he had was Legolas - and he was incredibly grateful for the presence of his son.

 

Still, Thranduil wondered why he had been affected so easily. He lived most of his life in the cave-like Woodland Realm, yet his halls were wholesome and airy despite stretching far underground. There were no evil things within his kingdom, he could not feel remnants of the darkness which all elves were sensitive to. Perhaps he was more sensitive than most, after all he had been through in life his heart could likely not take much more. Months ago he'd begun to fade, and the process had only been delayed by Legolas's arrival. But every second they were apart made the King feel he was drawing closer to death. His sudden lack of strength in Lorien was only proof of that. But as long as he could mentally communicate with his son (strange for two who were unbonded..) he would feel Legolas as near as he could.

 

He was snapped out of his reflections by a sudden spark, a flash of fire before his eyes and the face of Legolas lit up by a torch. Literally his worst nightmare, Thranduil grabbed Legolas and pulled him close. The torch harmlessly lit the room from Legolas's hand as the prince sat down. Slowly Thranduil could feel himself calming, but still on edge. Warily eating the rest of his Lembas, the King sighed shakily and closed his eyes.

Legolas took a bite of the lembas bread himself and reached for the flask of water to take a swig. He had desperately wished he had found some wine to take with him from Lorien, but he was not about to stay in that corrupt place a moment longer. The wine, he was certain, would have tasted foul and full of rot, as the evil started to take hold of everything and anything in the realm. The Prince stared up at the flickering of dancing shadows on the ceiling. They were nothing to fear. Occasionally, the fire would catch their shadows in such a way that Legolas realized how small they both really were in this great wide world. Legolas had always thought of their people as strong, infallible, and unwavering. In these dark, deep mines, he felt so... insignificant.

 

"Now, I truly wish we had gone back to Mirkwood instead..." He sighed. "I told myself I would never set foot in this place. It is forsaken." Leaning over, Legolas pressed a gentle kiss to his father's temple, hoping his closeness would help soothe him. Secretly, Legolas was terrified, but he knew he had to be strong for the both of them to survive this. Otherwise, the shadow would drive them both mad. Creatures of the forest were not made for this place, not at all. "The company this time around is far better..." Legolas' lips curved up in a smile against Thranduil's skin. "You are very brave, Adar..." Legolas did not know all of what the King had been through, but he had certainly seen some of it, or remnants of it at least.

Thranduil opened his eyes a tad, yet no light shone forth this time. A dull, dark grey had taken his features and the look in his eyes was dead. Never had he felt so tired that he wanted to sleep - elves didn't sleep at his age! It was simply unheard of - he had nothing severe that needed healing, nor did he wish to have a surprise vision at this hour. But perhaps his spirit needed rest. With Legolas beside him speaking soft words of positive things, Thranduil felt safer than he would've, had he been alone.

 

"When we have warned Lord Elrond.. Then, we may return back home. At least grant me that.." he whispered, sliding to rest his head on Legolas's shoulder. Hugging his son's arm he snuggled close, staring into the flame atop the torch. It was there, yet it was not burning them both alive. This was okay. He could withstand this.

Legolas saw him as brave, and Thranduil thought himself anything but. Now was not the time to berate himself on being a cowardly king who surely would've been beheaded by his own father for wanting to hide while the world suffered. It was then Thranduil realised he had to stop feeling such things and for one last time, be strong. For his legacy, for his future, for his son, for himself.

"Yes... when we have warned Lord Elrond we shall return home..." Legolas murmured, closing his eyes slightly, though he knew he could not risk sleep here. He would need to keep watch for the night. Thranduil had to remain strong, for Legolas was not skilled in magic. After their journey through Moria it would prove to be incredibly difficult if Thranduil was not able to transform into a form that Legolas could ride. It would take far too much time to walk the entire way. Deep in his heart, however, the Prince knew that it would not be so easy to return back home with the King. They would be hunted down. Could Imladris even stand alone to battle Galadriel? The Prince feared that was also impossible.

 

Having no earthly idea what time it was, Legolas could only assume it was getting late. The mines were dark no matter where the sun was in the sky. Resting his chin against Thranduil's chest, Legolas listened to the strong beat of his heart. When the flames in the torch jumped a bit, he heard it speed up a bit. He was no singer, but Legolas hummed a gentle Sindarin lullaby he remembered from his dreams that his mother once sung to him.

Thranduil could feel himself beginning to fall asleep, to slip into the elven meditative state where he would awaken next morning refreshed and renewed. Legolas's voice comforted him so - despite now the King felt like an elfling in his son's arms rather than the other way. He remembered the lullaby his wife had sung centuries ago, somewhere mid second age when Legolas was young and evil had not yet arisen. Feels began to wash over him in a deluge of memory - his arms wrapped around Legolas's waist and he pressed his entire body as close as he could get.

"Mnnnhh.." he sighed, curling his fingers into the prince's sides. Soft torchlight and absolute silence were all he needed to drift into sleep. He would not see the light of the stars for some time, but for now he could cope.

Legolas had felt his father become heavier as he drifted off and waited for his breathing to even out. He had spent the entire night awake, watching the two entrances to the room. There were several times that Legolas was certain he would have to wake Thranduil from his slumber to run, but luckily all of the incidents were false alarms. He was leaning against the entrance facing west, his temple pressed against the rough rock of the doorway as the King slept. He would not wake his father... he did not have the heart to do so. The Prince was practically asleep on his feet, his hand pressed to the hilt of his dagger, ready to attack and protect if there was any threat at all.

Thranduil woke after eight long hours, the ache in his head slightly lessened and his frayed nerves somewhat eased.

"Legolas.." he whispered, gently placing a hand on his son's chest "Are you okay?" After resting,the knowledge came to him that Legolas had probably stayed up all night. They hadn't been attacked, nor burned, nor interrupted. Thranduil had been protected, by the very same elf he would have locked in their kingdom for safety.

 

Soon they would be moving through the mines again, and once they were out - make haste to Rivendell, then somehow get back to Mirkwood and prepare for war. Thranduil sighed. He honestly thought those times were over.

Legolas nodded, starting slightly when Thranduil touched his chest. His dreams had been dark, he saw Galadriel's eyes lit like fire in the night, and he physically felt a burning pain in his hands and chest, even though the torch had burnt out several hours ago while the King slept. "Aye... yes, Adar... I am fine. We cannot linger. Are you well enough to travel?"

 

The Prince gathered up their things. Honestly, it did not matter if either of them were well enough to do so, for they had to get out of here. Legolas offered his hand to the King and began to guide them back down through the winding halls. They must be getting a little closer to the entrance since he could smell a hint of salty water from the lake outside of the doors of the mine. "I predict we are at least a day out if we keep moving..." He could hear echoes in the dark again. The Goblins were not close, thank the Valar, but any wrong step could trigger a stampede of them to follow the elves.

Thranduil made a sound of agreement, and was indeed with enough strength to make the day's journey out. He could not wait to get out of the darkness and feel grass beneath his feet, take silent footsteps and fresh air once more.

 

He would not release Legolas's hand, and used the light of his eyes to brighten their surroundings just enough to be able to navigate. His sharp hearing was on high alert for anything suspicious, and he trusted Legolas would keep him safe if danger struck. Along narrow paths and damp walls they crept, Thranduil shivering now and then at the strange coldness as they moved higher. Night in summer was not as deadly cold as the Winter, but still chilly enough to be uncomfortable for most elves. Outside, it was late evening and Thranduil felt a distinct air current bend around a corner.

"We are close." he whispered. Finally.

It had felt like an eternity in those mines, and Legolas felt as though he was beginning to see and hear things that were not there. It did not take much to go mad in the darkness, and as strong as Legolas tried to be, he was still susceptible. There was was a bit of moonlight now, at the end of the tunnel, and the Prince practically dragged Thranduil out. He took a breath of fresh air and stared up at the sky, grateful for grass beneath his feet and being surrounded by light, even if only by the moon, and life.

 

Legolas smiled at the King and released his hand. "I told you I knew my way. You had no reason to doubt me, Adar." He smirked. His breath was visible on the air as he spoke. The evenings were chill, becoming especially cold as of late. "It is a few days more to Rivendell, but there is no reason to walk in fear at this point..." At least, Legolas hoped that was the case. There had been enough excitement these few days. He missed their home in Mirkwood, their shared baths and stolen kisses in the dark. Now they were scurrying for survival, in fear, and very much unlike what an Elf should be doing. Legolas hated it.

"I never doubted you, iôn." said Thranduil as he breathed evenly in the cool night air, tilting his head upwards and feeling the moonlight illuminate his skin. He had a soft blue-white glow to him now, and took much energy from their open surroundings. Ah, yes. He felt like an elf again, fresh and peaceful amongst the still but calm dusk. His hair shone with a silvery glint as he tossed it over his shoulders, making himself look proper once more.

 

Quietly he turned to Legolas and ran his fingers through his hair, speaking to him in a low murmur. "Do you require a mount for the night?" the King's lips brushed against his son's ear yet he was not trying to seduce him - rather, he was still getting his bearings and of course never really took much note of personal space between them. They were Sindar elves, after all. Sticking close together was in their nature. "You may ride me if you wish."

Legolas felt a renewed strength course through his own veins, and the strange cold and heat waves that moved through his body had dissipated. He began to feel himself despite the hold Galadriel held on him. The noose around his neck had loosened. He inhaled again, loving the sweet green smell of the grass and the way the light of the moon glowed on the King's skin and his own. Here, standing beneath the silver glow, Legolas felt whole again.

 

As Thranduil moved close, his deep voice resonated in the Prince's pointed ear and he could not help but shiver. He was used to their closeness, yes, but whenever Thranduil was close to him as of late Legolas could barely stand it. All of his blood seemed to shoot straight to his groin. He knew the King meant ride him in his elk form to Imladris, but the Prince's mind drifted elsewhere. It had felt like an eternity, even though it was just a few days, since they had last touched intimately. Legolas turned his face to meet the King's and he looked at him as though he had never looked upon him before. Legolas reached down for the King's hands and took them into his own. In times like this Legolas knew he could not speak of his need for Thranduil, of his deepest desires. This was no place, nor was he ever sure it could be again. So much had changed. It could never be, no matter how much Legolas wished it. "I do believe I will require a mount to Imladris, Adar... If we leave now we will make it there by morning."

Thranduil nodded, and took his crown from his satchel.

"Don't get any strange ideas when I bend for you..." he said to Legolas, before promptly sticking his ass towards his son as he transformed. He looked a little grey in his elk form due to the clothes he'd been wearing, and turned to gesture for Legolas to jump onto his back.

Legolas seemed light enough, and Thranduil knew the way to Rivendell but not from this part of Middle-Earth. He would trust Legolas to be his guide once more, through their mental connection.

Legolas rolled his eyes as Thranduil told him not to get any ideas. _"I'm not an Orc, Adar... I get no pleasure from the backside of animals, even those who are as regal as you."_

The Prince reached out to gently grasp the longer, silken white hair of the elk's neck and lightly mounted him, burrowing both hands in so he did not fly off. He was not accustomed to riding this particular kind of creature, though he hoped his horse riding skills mixed in with the occasional Warg transferred.

He gripped Thranduil's sides with his legs. _"Am I light enough for you, Adar? Imladris should be straight ahead. Keep following the Western star."_

Thranduil's mental voice took a tone of amusement and he followed the bright star shining in the night sky, walking at a reasonable pace.

_"You are light as ever, iôn nín. I really must feed you more. "_

A path along the mountains was what Thranduil took to travel north, passing dense patches of woodland here and there along with the wide expanse of flat land that offered a wide-reaching calmness all around. He could not forget Galadriel's threat, but she was not in his mind at the moment. He only had room for Legolas.

 _"I believe you are right, Adar. I am naught but skin and bones."_ Legolas chuckled aloud at this, knowing it was far from the truth. Elves in Mirkwood ate better than many creatures anywhere. They were spoiled, really.

Under the moonlight, the skies were dark and clear now, and thousands of bright stars shone overhead, helping to light their path. The gentle, rocking gait of Thranduil's form was relaxing and Legolas allowed his hips to move with the rhythm of each step. He almost forgot that he was seated atop the King of Mirkwood, for his father was in his mind. Legolas' blue eyes scanned the expanse of field ahead of them, the flat plains seeming to go for miles. Instinctively, he found his legs urging the elk a little faster, as Legolas loved to gallop in abandon across landscapes like this and fly, feel free. He remembered quickly, however, that this was no ordinary elk and caught himself before his heels dug too deep.

_"And what do you think Lord Elrond shall say when he sees us? Quite a pair, would you not say?"_

_"He will probably have a heart attack or not recognise me. I do not know."_ Thranduil picked up his pace a little bit, for he knew his son liked to feel the wind in his hair as he rode.

An hour passed, and Thranduil found himself thinking just how they were going to explain all this to Elrond. The Lord of Imladris was close to grief and Thranduil had heard his daughter chose a mortal life. Such terrible news of Galadriel going nuts and a potential new Dark Power rising in Middle-Earth just might be enough to send him into despair.

 _"Well let us not hope for the former option..."_ Legolas thought, sighing to himself. Why had Galadriel chosen them to do her bidding? Why weren't they allowed to just enjoy the rest of a peaceful eternity walled off in the palace before they sailed to Aman?

 

Legolas breathed in deeply and sighed pleasantly as the wind hit his face, his golden hair streaming behind them now as they moved a bit faster. The Prince had not seen the Lord of Imladris since the his Council, and he was certain Elrond harbored a good deal of negative feelings towards Aragorn. He was the reason his daughter chose a mortal life, after all. It was a wonder that after all he had lost, he chose not to sail. Just like his father.

 

 _"Gods I could use another bath... and a change of clothes. I have sweat through these more times than I would like to say."_ He reached up to touch the place where a large, unsightly bruise was forming from where Tauriel managed to sneak up on him and bludgeon him to unconsciousness. _"Luckily he is a healer... This bruise is rather ugly."_

Thranduil bristled all over and made a rather irritable grunt.

 _"Hmph! I cannot believe the misfortune these times have bestowed upon us."_ he thought, turning his head to the side to avoid his antlers contacting a lone tree standing in their path. _"I will be sure to get you clean clothes and a relaxing healing session as soon as possible."_

Thranduil honestly could wish for nothing more than to be back home in a pile of blankets, with a glass of wine in one hand and his beautiful son's hair in the other. He missed being able to spend time together and bond - the brief taste they'd had in the past two days had been enough for the King to know he wanted Legolas in his arms, their gates shut and a lovely privacy between them. But noooooo, they just had to get screwed over by Galadriel and Tauriel, brought far from their home and forced into a journey for their lives halfway across Arda. Fair enough. Thranduil could play this game. He would warn Elrond, get back home and never come out again.

 _"Now North, Adar..."_ Legolas pointed in the distance. Through the plains and sparse trees, if one listened closely enough, was the gentle sound of rushing water. _"The Bruinen. Just past that is Imladris."_

 

For a while, the two Elves were content with the quiet between them, and Legolas just enjoyed his father's nearness and company. He enjoyed the peace, while there was still some left for them. The sound of the rushing water grew nearer still, and the moon had faded behind the clouds, making way for a glorious sunrise of purples and crimsons. Anor was rising slowly in the distance, and Imladris unfolded ahead of them, in all it's glory. The Prince was grateful they were here, wanting to get this done as soon as possible, part of him wondering if killing Elrond and bringing Galadriel the ring would save them from this torment. It would be so easy. Elrond wouldn't even suspect it.

No, Legolas told himself. Where were these thoughts coming from? This was not an option. He would not lay a hand on Elrond. If Galadriel did get hold of Vilya, Legolas was certain that Arda would fall into shadow and flame and there would be nothing they could do to stop it. Not this time.

 

Though Thranduil was somewhat nearsighted, he could see a warm glow descending on the valleys before him. Heeding Legolas's directions he walked North, a little slower now as paths became clearer on the much traveled ground. The presence of elves could be sensed around, and Thranduil knew they were entering safe lands of comfort and welcome.

 

Looking around as best he could without knocking anything over with his antlers, Thranduil smiled a little. It looked a bit creepy on his current elk face, but still he was happy to be somewhere familiar. Here he would be treated with respect and have a bed to sleep in, along with substantial food and hopefully wine. Even Miruvor would do at this point; he had not gone without something alcoholic on a daily basis for millennia.

 

As they neared the archway leading into Imladris a few elves looked at them strangely. There were no guards here, but rather messengers and scholars who would inform Elrond of their arrival.

Among the elves was Lindir, who recognised Legolas from when the fellowship had been formed.

"Legolas?!" he spoke incredulously as he approached, staring up at the prince with wide eyes. "Back so soon?"

Legolas smiled at Lindir from atop Thranduil and dismounted, pressing his hand over his heart. "Well met, Lindir. And so soon? It has been thirteen of the longest months of my lifetime." He found himself unconsciously stroking the silken hair of the great elk he stood beside. "Would you be so kind as to alert Elrond of our presence?"

 

The Prince had not made it known that the creature beside him was in fact Thranduil, for not many of their kind used this type of magic these days. A part of him wanted to see the look on the Elf Lord's face when he finally realized who it was. Lindir was not the only elf Legolas recognized, but Erestor, Glorfindel, and various other elves at the Council whom Legolas had dined with and spoken to before the Fellowship departed. They all seemed incredibly curious as to why the Prince of Mirkwood had returned. Legolas supposed it was "so soon", since 13 months was truly a blink in the lifetime of an Elf.

_"Do you really intend on scaring poor Elrond half to death, Adar?"_

Thranduil chuckled, which came out as a quiet snort of amusement. Or should we say, a-moose-ment.

 _"I don't intend on scaring anyone!"_ he thought to Legolas, _"Just.. Waiting until the right moment. You know."_ Though he rather wanted to have a bit of fun; seeing Elrond in shock never failed to lighten his spirits. The elf Lord was always so serious, Thranduil figured a bit of emotion could do him some good.

 

Lindir gazed at the elk with its silky looking hair and strange eyebrows for a moment, before running off to fetch Elrond. The other elves were curious, but somewhat hesitant to approach Legolas. Here in these lands, they were very sensitive to even the slightest change in a person's behaviour, especially those closest to Elrond who were wary of outsiders. Glorfindel had his usual friendly smile on his face and nodded to Legolas in acknowledgement, being in deep conversation with Erestor until the prince had arrived.

 

Elrond came dressed in dark purple and light blue, the colours of a typical Noldo who wasn't feeling their absolute best. He expressed his feelings through what he wore, rather than what he said - for he could ramble on and on if the right listener came along. And by the gods, he did not want to reveal his emotions to a soul.

 

"Mae govannen, Legolas!" he greeted with a gentle smile, making the proper gesture as he descended pure white marble stairs to stand before the prince. "Good to see you again."

Legolas bowed deeply to Elrond, taking note of his state of dress. He knew the Elf Lord mourned the loss of his beautiful Evenstar day after day, as a father might. He reached out to clasp Elrond's arm in a friendly manner, offering him a smile, inclining his head. "Mae govannen, Lord Elrond. I must thank you for taking guests on such short notice." He nodded his head to "his" elk, for he was the creature that made the word "guest" plural. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Erestor give Thranduil an odd look before whispering something into Glorfindel's ear and causing the golden haired warrior to chuckle. Legolas could only imagine. Legolas likely looked like half the fool. No elk should have eyebrows like that. It even held itself as though it was ruler of this realm, too.

 

"Arwen's wedding, it was lovely." Legolas said gently. It was true, and she appeared very happy. What was an eternity if you could not spend it with the one you were meant to be with, the one you loved with every fiber of your being? Had Legolas been in a similar situation, he was certain he would have made the same decision. "I do not think you need to worry about her. Elessar shall care well for her."

 

It was clear Elrond was trying to hide his pained expression but he was grateful for the Prince's well wishings. He dared not speak of Arwen in the open, lest he break down completely. "Hannon le, Prince Legolas..." He murmured softly, wise grey eyes moving to the elk that stood beside Legolas. It was quite the... mount, he supposed. He hadn't seen a creature quite like this in centuries. "Lindir, please take the Prince's.... mount, and feed and water it for him. It appears tired from their journey..."

Said mount rose to a proper height of over six feet, slimming to a softly glowing form that turned out to be Thranduil. "Wine and pastries if you please." he said smilingly to Lindir, who almost shat himself. In a few moments he had made his way to stand beside Legolas, grooming his eyebrows and hair before straightening the slightly wrinkled Galadhrim tunic he wore.

"Goodness, it's been a while." said he to Elrond, who was staring at him with an entirely appropriate expression.

He decidedly ignored the muffled cackling of two particular elves, Glorfindel and Erestor who he had never been on close terms with and as such, had no idea he could turn into an elk. Lindir on the other hand had run off to prepare things, hoping he would never take such a fright in all his years again.

Legolas had to resist from slapping his own palm to his face as Thranduil insisted on making quite an... appearance. He had to admit, he found it incredibly amusing, as his father was ever the dramatic. "I was going to say, there would be no need for that..." He called out to Lindir who up and just ran as soon as the transformation took place.

It took Elrond a few moments to regain his composure before greeting Thranduil with a gentle embrace, shooting an icy glare in the direction of Glorfindel and Erestor, who were cackling away on the balcony, clearly incredibly amused.

The Lord of Imladris' brow furrowed at the sight of the Galadhrim cloak Thranduil donned. Strange. Very strange. Thranduil of Mirkwood would only be caught in his finest garb, not the "rags" of Galadriel's guard. "Well met, Thranduil..." He raised an eyebrow at the Prince. "You have been riding your father all this time, Prince Legolas? You both must be exhausted..."

Glorfindel let out a hoot at this, scaring away the birds from a nearby pond.

Thranduil blushed all the way to the tips of his ears at what Elrond said, his mind immediately thinking of much dirtier things. He decided to humour those who were listening, keeping a calm face lest the suppressed laughter burst forth.

"Oh yes, he rode me all the way here. Quite fast too, we could not linger in one place for too long. We bring serious news to you, mellon-nín." Thranduil ignored the reactions of anyone else and focused on Elrond, allowing his silvery green eyes to display that he had gone through much in the past few days. Ancient elves such as these two could tell much by appearance and behaviour - Thranduil did not want to scare Elrond but the incident with Galadriel had left a serious mark on him.

"Hopefully I may be able to clarify our sudden appearance along with why I'm dressed like this." he made a sweeping gesture to his clothes, which he noted had gathered a bit of Elrond's attention, if only momentarily.

Legolas was also blushing, as red as an apple but it was from complete and utter embarrassment. He could not believe what Thranduil was saying and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the dirt until this was all over.

 

Elrond was ready to snap at Glorfindel who just would not shut up. He had always been quite raucous, as the Noldorin elves were in relation to their Silvan and Sindar kin. The golden elf was in fits as Elrond pressed his hand gently between Thranduil's shoulder blades to guide the two Mirkwood elves towards privacy. "Come, let us speak behind closed doors and away from this foolishness." He shot Glorfindel another death glare, but the elf lord was clearly ignoring him, tears in his eyes and slapping his thigh like a fool. Obviously he had been drinking all morning already, which did not help. The raunchier, the more hilarious for Glorfindel.

 

The Lord of Imladris guided Legolas and Thranduil to his study, well lit with natural light and surrounded by vines, flowers, and more books than one could ever imagine. It was the largest library in all of Arda. Anything anyone could ever want to read about, they could find that particular piece of literature here. Lindir had already prepared a small feast as Thranduil had requested, and Elrond's desk was wrought with pastries, wine, honeyed mead, and water.

Elrond knew something was very wrong when he made eye contact with the Elvenking. No words needed to be spoken. His brow was ever knit with concern and he folded his arms behind him to listen carefully. Thranduil would never leave his palace and travel this far without great need.

Thranduil took a sip of wine before he began, finding it much easier to speak if he had a glass in his hand. Now he could gesticulate wildly and add as much dramatic flair as he liked. No no, he had to be serious. Seeeeeerious.

"Days ago, my guard-captain Tauriel went missing. When I went to look for her, she had kidnapped Legolas and took him to Lorien, where Galadriel had gone mad and nearly had me decapitated." He daren't admit his hair would have been cut - he was unwilling to tarnish Elrond's mental image of him with such visuals. And Tauriel had been unnervingly close to slitting his throat. He shuddered at the memory.

"She seeks Vilya, and has threatened us with torture if we do not recover it. We came to warn you and possibly prepare for war."

 

Thranduil looked to Legolas, as he didn't bullshit with his telling of the story- and sought a response something like " _We would never harm you at anyone's will"_ along with some potential strategies on what to do.

Elrond stood across from Thranduil, wincing slightly as the King's wild gestures with a full glass of wine in his hand threatening to spray a few droplets of the crimson liquid over a few pages and maps spread out over his desk. He collected them quickly and put them aside. He had been listening the entire time, of course, and could barely comprehend what Thranduil was saying. Now that Thranduil mentioned this incredibly strange behavior, Elrond had noted that the communications with the Golden realm had been few and far between in the last few weeks, and much of the communication had been with Celeborn, which Elrond found extremely unusual.

 

"I... see." This was a lot to take in. He cocked an eyebrow at Thranduil. "War? Was there not just a war? Don't you think you are being slightly absurd, my King?" Elrond took a sip from his own glass, a long sip. "Why in Arda would she want Vilya?" He gazed down at the golden ring on his hand, the blue stone glittering in the light that was coming from the large open window built into the ceiling of the library.

 

The glitter of Vilya caught Legolas' eye and his grip on his own wine glass tightened, the stem cracking under his grip. Startled, the Prince looked down at the blood on his hands. There were a few small shards embedded in the flesh and he didn't even feel it. Strange... His eyes snapped up towards Elrond, and then drifted to Thranduil. "Forgive me..." He muttered. It must have been this damned welt on his head. He was never this clumsy.

Thranduil dearly wanted to fuss over his son but suddenly became aware that something wasn't right.

 _"Do control yourself, Legolas."_ he told him silently _"It is impolite to shatter other people's glassware."_ Taking a long drink from his glass, the King then looked to Elrond.

"I know there was just a war - but what else would you call it to have our armies against the Galadhrim? Galadriel seeks power, and will stop at nothing to get it. I barely escaped from her clutches with my life, as did Legolas. You must be very careful from now on, Elrond. I warn you sincerely." Of course he did not expect Elrond to believe a word he said, but still their purpose was to warn him of the danger that legitimately stood before him, with a bloodied hand pricked and glassy. Thranduil believed completely his son would _never_ carry out Galadriel's request - but he had seen the madness in the golden-eyed glare of Tauriel as she threatened him into near-submission. If something like that were to happen to Legolas, if Galadriel somehow had him under her control... Even from afar... He would have to arrange an exorcism or something to get her out.

Even now he worried for Legolas. His behaviour was strange, and Thranduil picked up on such things very quickly.

 _"I was not... paying attention, Adar... I'm sorry."_ Legolas reached down and started picking at the small shards from his hand with his shaking fingers, placing the bloodied pieces in his near empty wine glass. Vilya was so horribly close. If he just... cut off his hand? He wouldn't have to kill Elrond; he could simply just take the Ring from him. Legolas battled himself in his own mind, making certain to keep a barrier between his own speech and his link with his father. He mentally smacked himself. _No! No... Calm yourself. Control yourself. All will be well._

 

Elrond frowned at Legolas. The Prince was different, much different, from the last time they had met. Something was not quite right. Regardless of whether or not Thranduil's words were true, he was grateful for the warning. "I am certain that my people could easily take the Galadhrim in any fight, should it come to that. We Noldor are not swayed so easily. Our roots run deep. I do appreciate your warning, Thranduil. We have been made well aware." It was clear the Noldo Lord was not convinced, though he remained respectful to the King. It was just so... mad. But Thranduil was no liar. "You and Prince Legolas are our guests regardless... and you may remain in my city for as long as you desire. You know this. You have traveled far to reach me."

"I thank you for your hospitality." Thranduil smiled kindly at Elrond, grateful for what he offered. He chose his next words carefully, while chewing on a pastry. Legolas was worrying him so greatly that he was not sure if his concern was placed right - he suspected Galadriel had done something to him, in the time they had been separated. It was a very small suspicion and possibility - yet it was there.

"Legolas has sustained an injury or two in the past few days, and I was wondering if I might ask to have him healed?" Thranduil spoke politely, not asking for any specific healer but mentally wishing for Elrond. Blunt force impacts were a simple thing to heal provided nothing had broken, and because Legolas had been smacked in the head by Tauriel... Elrond could observe the state of his mind if he worked at it diligently enough. Thranduil wondered how he would be able to say _'AYY I think my son's got some freaky thoughts happenin' can you check it out?'_

Elrond nodded to Thranduil. He would never deny another healing, especially the son of a good friend of his, the one who helped guide the Fellowship to safety. He knelt down in front of Legolas and gently took the broken wine glass from his fingers, pressing a hand to his knee. Elrond did not want to tell Thranduil what he saw when he looked into those cloudy blue eyes, and before he made any finalized judgments he definitely wanted a closer look. He felt uneasy now, around the young Prince. He reached up to carefully touch the bruise on Legolas' forehead and the blonde elf stiffened slightly before standing.

Legolas was fearful of what he may do if he were alone with Elrond. With Thranduil here, there was some resistance, but Vilya was so close now...

_"I am fine, Adar... It is just a flesh wound. These things heal."_

Elrond frowned at Legolas' reaction. "I assure you, Prince Legolas, it will barely hurt."

Legolas looked at Thranduil and hesitantly nodded at Elrond. "Very well."

 _'The better health condition you are in, the easier my mind can rest. You know I love you, Legolas. I would not stand to have you injured in any way.'_ Thranduil thought it was much more than just a flesh wound Legolas had sustained, seeing his reactions change as minutes passed. He would have to talk to Elrond privately, and watched him curiously as he worked on Legolas.

 

A light green glow came from those healing hands, Elrond barely making skin contact and letting his magic pass through to the prince. The closer he got, he could sense Legolas's mental state. It troubled him greatly, and there was a lot of confusion along with restraint hiding in there. It seemed like he had been touched by the will of another - not connected and controlled wherever he went - but planted with the seed of someone's thought.... filled with malice and torment. However he did not comment a single word - healing things like this did not take him too long, and by the time he was finished he became aware of Thranduil's keen eye watching him. At close range, the Elvenking's stare really was unnerving. Yet he was used to it, having been the recipient of many jealous looks from the then-prince in the early second age. Thranduil blinked a moment and pointedly redirected his gaze, instead focusing on what was outside the window.

 

Ah, he could observe the vision of Imladris forever. Neatly cared for gardens with an endless array of bright flowers, trees that changed colour with every season and the nearby river flowing smoothly like it tempted one to stare into its depths. Once the Greenwood had been Thranduil's sanctuary, his home and his life. Now with its darkness and whatnot, he almost wanted to stay here with Elrond and stare into thin air all day long. He'd had enough of seeing shadow and web where there should be sunlight and green leaves. But alas it was the safest place for him, locked away in his fortress with an army of elves ready to fight to the death. Hopefully, things would get brighter.

Elrond's healing touch was powerful and renowned throughout Arda. Legolas felt the skin of his hands and head begin to mend, and the bruise changed color slowly, from an angry red to purple to green, and then finally it was unnoticeable against the Prince's fair skin. It was though he was untouched. Legolas felt Elrond in his mind for a moment, and trying to shut every door fast enough left him unsuccessful. He was not certain how much Elrond saw and he gripped the chair he sat in, his knuckles turning white. He did not think he breathed the entire time Elrond was healing him. If only the Elf Lord of Imladris could work on healing his mind.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond..." Legolas murmured when the Lord was through. He took a step back from his chair and from Thranduil, wanting to distance himself as much as possible from the one he instructed to kill. Galadriel promised to break Thranduil if he failed, and Legolas would not be the cause of the King's torturous death. He couldn't even fathom it. In truth, he would kill a thousand of his kin singlehandedly to protect Thranduil.

 

In the end though, Legolas was not certain that he could protect anyone at all. "Please excuse me, my Lord... I think I am long overdue for a bath." It was true, he hadn't bathed in days and felt grimy and absolutely horrible. The further away he was from Elrond the better. He remember the cool pool in the gardens as being incredibly relaxing, and on a warm summer day such as this it would help cool his mind and his temper that threatened to flare for absolutely no reason at all. Legolas exchanged a look with his father that told him he could join him when he found it appropriate, but for now Legolas needed to ease his own mind. With that, the Prince turned on his heel and left as calmly as he could.

 

Elrond was still frowning as he looked at Thranduil. "There is darkness in his mind, Thranduil... You will need to be cautious around him. I could feel a taint."

Thranduil's face fell from its placidity so fast it almost hit the floor.

"I fear Galadriel may have subject his mind to her power..." he muttered, turning to Elrond with a suddenly serious look. "Do not worry about me. I doubt he would hurt me for any purpose- you are the one who needs to look out." It pained the king to say such words - for was it not he who had allowed his friend's life to be put in sudden peril, just by bringing Legolas here? Hell, this was exactly what Galadriel wanted! Taking the prince with the will to slay Elrond and run off with Vilya, while having Thranduil helplessly watch. It was like killing two birds with one stone. Or, two elves with a mental breakdown.

 

"I would suggest you guard yourself tonight..." Thranduil elegantly stepped towards Elrond, tilting his head a little to the left. "Maybe... sleep with someone who could protect you... or set a watch outside your door." Now he was within reasonable distance to trail his fingers along the underside of Elrond's lean neck, tipping his head up as if readying him for a kiss - but did not do so. "Just as a precaution." he smiled, though it was a joyless and cautious thing.

Elrond was still surprisingly skeptical that the Prince could do anything to hurt him. Legolas was an incredibly skilled hunter yes, and of Thranduil's blood which naturally meant he was a formidable foe. However, he himself was a great warrior several millennia old like the Mirkwood King, and surrounded by quite a few capable characters as well. Glorfindel, for one, who, when he was not giggling his ass off and making lewd comments at Erestor and any other attractive Elf he might come into contact with, was a vicious creature not to be messed with. His prowess on the battlefield was comparable to that in the bedroom. Elrond would know. So would most of Imladris.

 

Elrond had always been incredibly attracted to the King. Who could not? With a set of eyes like that and a fiery, intelligent, and haughty attitude like that? Not to mention his body... No, Elrond told himself. Now was not the time to think of such things. He hadn't felt a heat like that in a while since Arwen had departed. He felt his loins warm and felt himself leaning into Thranduil's hand much more obviously than he had meant to. Thranduil was seduction incarnate and Elrond had wondered why the King had not bonded. Perhaps he liked the freedom of choosing his bedmates night after night. Thranduil's breath was hot against his mouth and Elrond inhaled sharply, hands still clasped firmly, properly, behind his back. "I assure you I have many guarding me. Perhaps you shall also need someone to guard you?" He almost smiled then, but his face was far too serious to really give much humor away. There was a bit of mirth in those solemn grey eyes, however. "You are still as teasing as you ever were, King Thranduil. You are _always_ welcome in Imladris."

Elrond sighed. "And what do you propose we do with your son? Leave him unguarded? I do not think he would take to being a prisoner in my realm."

"Oh, he would not take to being a prisoner anywhere. Believe me, I have suggested it." Thranduil remembered when he had been close to locking his son in the dungeons just to keep him from exploring the dangerous forest on his own. He _still_ felt it would have been the right thing to do - maybe this mess could have turned out differently if Galadriel had gone after him.

"Perhaps I should sleep with him and hold him securely..." Like a cat he slunk behind Elrond and ran those long, delicate fingers down the older elf's neck... then his shoulders, chest, until finally coming to rest by his waist. "Just like this..." he spoke in deep, gentle tones like the humming of a cello beside Elrond's ear, hot breath ghosting through dark strands of hair and barely contacting skin. "And maybe... he will not escape." Closer he pulled the Lord of Imladris with arms tightening just a tad, head crooked over a broad shoulder he could feel carried such tension, he just wanted to massage it away. With his tongue. Naked. Ah, he had to distract his thoughts for just a moment, surely he was only acting like this to supplement his words... Surely it could not be his desire for a warm body against his own after long hard days traveling, for a comfortable bed to share and the cool, wise gaze of the one before him staring into his soul...

 

Thranduil sighed quietly, his hands unconsciously dipping the tiniest bit lower over Elrond's stomach. "I will not let him harm you, mellon nín." he concluded, resting his head a little closer to where he wanted to peel Elrond's robes apart and plant a kiss upon his neck. For it was not just desire that fuelled his thoughts but a great need to erase the worn look on his friend's face. Elrond always looked either too serious, too tired or masking upset. Just once, Thranduil would have liked to smooth the creases in his forehead and not allow him to frown - even if just for a single, sweet hour.

 _‘Now is not the time for sentimental feels.’_ he told himself, yet his body was unwilling to tear itself from the one it stayed close to.

Thranduil was not making this easy. Not one bit. He wanted to throw the Mirkwood King onto the table and fuck that knowing smirk off his pretty face. Elrond was starting to wonder if Thranduil ever thought of anything other than sex. At the moment, he really was starting to doubt it. It had been a long while since he even let Glorfindel into his bed, and the golden lord came clawing at his door every other night it seemed, when he couldn't get Lindir or Erestor into his bed. But Thranduil, Thranduil was a different Elf entirely. He was mysterious, where Glorfindel was sometimes painfully obvious. It was all mind games with this one, and being an incredibly intelligent and wise elf himself, Elrond could play those mind games well. And he wanted to. Gods, he wanted to.

 

Licking his suddenly dry lips Elrond stiffened in the King's arms. "Maybe?" His voice was a little weaker now, but his brow was still knit. It was though it was permanently scrunched that way, the Elf Lord worried so. "If you have to put Legolas in chains to keep him from getting at me like a wild thing I would have you do that. I am not satisfied with a 'maybe' he will not escape."

 

Resisting and turning to face Thranduil, Elrond dared to reach out and lightly trace the Lorien leaf brooch on the King's Galadhrim cloak, feeling the upraised lines beneath his fingers. "No one has been able to capture Thranduil, Mirkwood King's heart just yet. Tell me, your majesty, how many do you take to your bed each night? You know we Noldo do not frivolously give our bodies up to anyone who offers it up so easily. Especially when we are bonded." He sighed. Celebrian had been long gone, and none had been able to fill that void in his heart.

"I do not demand your body nor heart against your will.." he whispered, crafting his words as carefully as he could so as not to give the wrong impression "I merely wish to offer you respite from what weighs upon your mind."

_'And what better than a violent orgasm to flood those depressing thoughts away?'_

"I do not couple with others in reckless abandon, mellon-nín. I have very high standards.."

_'Believe me when I say I have never pleasured anyone other than an elf-lord.'_

Now he spoke very quietly as if understanding Elrond did not wish to play their game further. Though he could be very forceful with his advances, he respected Elrond like no other and would not tease him to madness. Not like this, not here. Still, he willed the heat between his legs to subside, trying to think of unattractive things.

 

But then he remembered Elrond suggesting to chain Legolas for his own protection, and mentally was greeted with a naked prince spread on silken sheets with chains binding him to the bed. He didn't know how close he spoke to Elrond's lips as he breathed a shuddering, gentle sigh.

"If I must chain Legolas then it shall be done... I am sure he will see it as a game of sorts..." Lightly Thranduil's lips brushed against Elrond's, and it took all of his self-control to hold back from kissing him deeply "..and nothing more."

Elrond desperately wanted to play this game with Thranduil. This deliciously sensual game. He was certain the Elf King did not realize how hard he was to resist. He realized then that he had possibly offended Thranduil, implying that he copulated with any and every moving thing with a pretty face. No, that was Glorfindel. He must not get these two wicked blonde-haired elves confused. When Thranduil closed the distance between them, Elrond was unable to stifle the soft moan that built up in his throat. This was too good. Thranduil was too close. Elrond prided himself on self-control and he was losing it very quickly in Thranduil's presence.

 

"A game?" He whispered against the Elf King's mouth, cocking an eyebrow. "Do you play these games often with your Prince?" Elrond was, of course, offering an attempt at humor, not realizing all the games they did indeed play. The Elf Lord was not immune to the Mirkwood Prince's charms either, or his beauty. But right now, Legolas was downright terrifiying in his book, and a threat. The thought of chaining up Thranduil to his bed suddenly crossed his mind and he pressed a hand to the King's chest to distance himself. "You need to leave." Elrond was playing ever so hard to get, but he needed time to think about all of this. "I would not leave Legolas in Glorfindel's presence for long. He is always searching for pray. I do say this is a poor time for him to seek out Legolas' company. He has a few of his own games he likes to play."

Thranduil stepped back, straightening his posture until he held himself loftily with all the regal fanciness in the world.

"I suppose I must attend to him then." he said, knowing he could track his son by sense and connection alone. "We will see who masters these 'games.'"

Now Thranduil had heard of Glorfindel's proclivity for sex, yet had no clue what he was like as a lover. The protective fatherly side of Thranduil did not want anyone to touch his Legolas - not anyone he hadn't tested himself. He only wanted the best and most pleasurable experience for the prince - and if Glorfindel preyed on him now as Elrond suggested, he feared someone just might get their dick bitten off. Legolas did have a tendency to nip a little hard with his teeth now and then, but Thranduil loved it either way.

 

Calmly he swept his fingers past his chest in a gesture of farewell, but this one trailed down the side of his body, outlined by the snug-fitting Galadhrim tunic.

"I shall see you later..." he smiled, winking at Elrond suggestively before striding out of the room. Thranduil kept his eyes wide open and was on sharp lookout for any blonde amongst the mostly dark-haired elves here, leaving the cover of the building and coming into a sunlit garden. He could hear the sound of water nearby, and since Legolas had said something about wanting to get himself clean, it made sense that he would find his son in that direction.

Making his way there with purpose, the King looked for Legolas. Or Glorfindel. Whoever had the misfortune of meeting him first, when his body ached to plow into another.

Elrond reached down to pour himself a glass of wine, tossing it back quickly as Thranduil left and reaching down beneath his desk to grab a stronger liquor. He was going to need it. Gods, the Mirkwood Elf really knew how to get him all hot and bothered. Thranduil was already winning this game, damn him. Elrond both loved and hated it at the same time. He would need to call Glorfindel to his rooms tonight. For protection or a good hard fuck, he wasn't really sure. Maybe both. Definitely both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Ending: Legolas then grabbed Elrond, bit his hand off and escaped with Vilya into the sunset, only to bring death and ruin upon Arda. Fin. XDDD
> 
> I drew some art for this chapter ^_^ It was back in early January of 2015 when this arc was still being written and I hadn't gone to art school, so the style is a bit shit. Still tho gotta love laser-eyes Thrandy :D


	5. 2-2 : The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes DOWN and gets hella intense with just about everyone. Referred to as 'sauron-ish leggles', we see the precious princeling get possessive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to put some dates here:  
> Entire thing Started: 24-12-14  
> Got to the end of this chapter: 1-1-15  
> Holy shit. I am legitimately surprised that in just eight days, over forty thousand words were written.  
> That's passion, yo.

Legolas' clothes were piled next to the pool that only offered the idea of privacy. The water was clear, crisp, and cool, and he was not at all bashful about his body as he swam and bathed, delighting in the way it enveloped his entire being, helping to clear his mind, at least for a time. On the balcony was Glorfindel, watching Legolas with a predatory grin. The Prince knew he was there, knew very well he was there but paid him no heed. There was too much on his mind right now and he really had no interest in an Elf who had his cock in just about every corner and orifice of Rivendell. Hearing footsteps down the hall, however, Glorfindel turned, emerald green eyes honing in on Thranduil, and smirking as he turned his eyes away from his latest prey.

"Your majesty..." The golden Elf was practically purring. "Your son is very lovely, you know... I never had someone deny me before, but when he was here last, he did just that. A first time for everything I suppose..." Glorfindel looked the King up and down himself. This Elf really didn't have a filter. This was a no censorship zone right here, and Glorfindel didn't give a damn. Lowly servant or Elvenking, Glorfindel was all over anyone. The prettier the better. "You're not so bad yourself..."

Thranduil walked from the shadow of the hallway and onto the balcony, feeling warm sun in his hair and still warmer heat down below. Gazing at Glorfindel he knew he'd been watching Legolas, and looked past him absently to catch sight of the prince dipping his head beneath the sparkling clear water. He wished his nearsightedness would vanish just for an instant, how he craved to see pale skin and lewd exposure before his eyes. Slowly his attention focused back on Glorfindel. Thranduil could take what he wanted from him, the warrior would not mind to have his spear put to use. Surely.

"Oh my.." he murmured, feigning a shy smile as if he were a fair maiden swooning in the arms of her beloved "How you flatter me so, Glorfindel." Thranduil wondered if Legolas's sharp hearing would pick up the sound of his voice, and what his reaction might be if the King took Glorfindel up on his offer. With this elf there was no gameplaying - straight and concise, the cards were laid on the table and it was clear what he wanted.

"Legolas would deny you... As would any picky elf-lord." Now he smirked, stalking towards Glorfindel with a definite sway of his hips "If you are in need, however... I could arrange something for just... You... And.. _Me_..." He intended to press the elf up against the balcony's railing and ravish him right here - nobody was around to watch them save for Legolas, who likely would turn away and pretend he heard nothing. Or would he?

Glorfindel was always eager and on the ready, and the fact that the Elf King was giving in so quickly and easily was delightful, for the Golden Lord loved a challenge or something easy either way. It was all the same. It was sex and he craved it. He stalked towards Thranduil, his eyes lighting up, running his tongue over his lips. Glorfindel moved like a big cat stalking his prey. He was of comparable height to the King and their bodies lined up just perfectly. He guided the King towards the railing of the balcony, throwing all care to the wind. Or whatever cares he had left, which weren't many at all. "Sire? You little Elf Lord would deny me but his father would give himself so willingly? Am I truly just the perfect gentleman or am I just at the right place at the right time?" Glorfindel leered.

 

Legolas had heard everything and was bristling in the pool below. Glorfindel was a complete whore and listening to Thranduil willingly just offer himself up on a silver platter made Legolas want to rip the Elf Lord's throat out and strangle him with it. He knew full well that Thranduil had many who tried to court him, that he was not his one and only, but something caused a ball of jealousy to knot in his stomach. Was he not enough for the King? Was he not whorish enough? Is that what Thranduil wanted? Not knowing where this sudden and vicious jealousy came from, the Prince climbed from the pool, still dripping as he pulled a light robe onto his sopping wet body and made his way silently towards the balcony.

"I would not say right place, nor right time... Not for you." At that, Thranduil's fingers curled around the waist of one he figured would not submit so easily. Deftly he turned and bent Glorfindel over the railing, if just a little so his upper body was tilted back. Elves were flexible, and this one could probably bend well enough to shove his own feet up his ass.

 

"You are anything but a gentleman, Glorfindel..." Thranduil growled deeply as if intending to claim the Lord as his own, pouncing like a starved cat with teeth going straight for his neck. With one hand he held Glorfindel from falling off the railing, with the other he tugged at those golden locks of hair hard enough to expose as much skin as he could.

 

All those who crossed the Elvenking looking for sex or battle would get the same thing - a mark on their body and hopefully satisfaction. Though most of his enemies ended up dead and his bed partners half so, Thranduil was confident in his stamina that Glorfindel would last for a good, rough fucking the moment it was needed. And that moment was now - Damn the days of celibacy and the sudden attraction he felt for Elrond, he was sure he was coming across as desperate. Lust was lust. What more could be done? He sucked and bit a red spot into Glorfindel's neck, needing to sink his teeth into something before his aggressive desire turned into a more murderous energy. He did not intend to draw blood however; he had a fair degree of control.

He had no clue at all for what Legolas was doing, as the prince's sneaking skills often bested his father - especially when Thranduil was distracted.

It was not often that Glorfindel found himself on the bottom, but he loved a change every now and again. He couldn't help but gasp as he was practically shoved over the railing, his neck exposed and his hair pulled painfully. It was then that he let out a long, low growl as Thranduil bit into his neck, hard enough to bruise but not break the skin. It was a controlled pain and Glorfindel absolutely delighted in it. "You wound me, Sire..." He grunted throatily, reaching down to touch himself in his all-too-tight leggings. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Not a gentleman.... I could be if I wanted to be. But it isn't as much fun that way..."

 

Legolas stalked through the halls and stopped in the doorway of the balcony, eyes flaming a bright blue like fire. His nostrils flared slightly. His rage was calm at the surface but boiling beneath. Thranduil seemed rather... distracted, and Glorfindel wouldn't care if he saw Legolas standing there ready to murder him. But Legolas did not intend on doing real harm to the Elf Lord, but he would make it clear that he was not to lay so much as a hair on the King. It was in a silent instant that the Prince was standing beside Glorfindel, his hand woven in the Slayer's golden locks, exposing his throat almost cruelly. He knelt slightly to look him in the eyes. "Find another fuck, Glorfindel..." Legolas practically snarled, his gaze steady and his grip tight. He did not even look at Thranduil. "I want you gone. Now." His voice left nothing to argue.

Thranduil was legitimately shocked at the sudden appearance of Legolas, and released Glorfindel's hair before he accidentally tore his scalp off.

"What is the matter with you?" he hissed, not moving an inch from where he stood a little bent over the Elf Lord. _"How dare you interrupt me just as I'm about to get some?"_

The King was undeniably hard at having Glorfindel beneath him, a perfect picture of shameless desire presented in the sluttiest manner possible. He had wanted to try him for a while now, having heard of the famous warrior's seduction skills and promiscuity. All that went through Thranduil's mind was what he saw before him was what he wanted - and anyone who took this privilege away from him would have hell to pay.

 

Granted, it was a bit difficult for him to see reason past Legolas's actions and he tugged him away from Glorfindel, honestly not wanting anybody to get hurt more than necessary.

"Iôn. Would you rather me have **_you_** instead?" he growled almost mockingly but there was real threat in his voice - if Legolas wanted to be taken up the ass in public as Thranduil had intended to do to Glorfindel, it would happen.

Glorfindel straightened up before the Prince, clearly not very fazed by the sudden roughness. He liked it rough, in all honesty, and there was a tent in his leggings, all thanks to Thranduil. He desperately needed something right now, some sort of release... by means of anyone or anything. He stepped now towards Legolas. "Why hello my precious Princeling... were you jealous? Did you want to join in?"

 

Legolas never broke eye contact with Glorfindel. _"He is a whore, Father... If you want a whore I can be anyone you want me to be. This elf is filthy."_

 

Just as the Elf Lord reached towards his face to bring Legolas in for a kiss, the Prince's hands clenched into fists and he let his right hand swing, the sound of fist on flesh was almost sickening and Glorfindel's golden head was knocked backwards. "Leave. Noldo scum." Legolas practically spat. "How dare you lay a finger on the King."

 

Glorfindel swayed slightly, his eyes flashing. "The puppy has a bit of fight..." He looked towards Thranduil and growled playfully, still undeterred and his eyes danced with delight at the prospect of watching the King give it to his son right here in the open... perhaps he would even be allowed to participate.

_"Do not get between me now, Adar..."_ The Prince warned.

"Legolas. Your behaviour is incredibly inappropriate." Thranduil stood beside Glorfindel and ran his fingers along where Legolas's fist had landed, the slightest healing magic coursing through his hand to at least numb the pain. He knew Glorfindel was incredibly tough and if angered, would probably kick Legolas's ass into the First Age.

_"It is not wise to antagonise him. Nor is it to displease me."_

Thranduil undid the top clasp of his tunic and was finally allowed to breathe, his prominent collarbones and a sliver of smooth chest exposed. With a flick of his head the look on his face darkened, to something he had not shown Legolas before. When he spoke it was with the tone of a commander ordering his soldiers - Legolas had military training and would hopefully give an autonomous response, but was also free-spirited enough to override anyone's commands if he wished.

"Unfortunately for you both I want something, and I want it **_now_**. Either of you will give me what I desire, or this shall not end well."

Thranduil was getting serious, but of course one could take it as method acting roleplay of the most legitimate kind. In truth, as much as Thranduil loved to play super dominant or needy submissive, right now he was close to grabbing a fistful of Glorfindel's hair and wrapping it around his cock, how terribly he needed something beautiful and pleasurable on his heated skin. He folded his arms to stay the urge, head tilted up in a show of clear superiority and back straight enough it gave him just a little more height.

Legolas certainly did not recognize Thranduil's tone at all, for he only used it whilst commanding soldiers. Legolas was well versed in military command and respect, and knew far better than to ignore his father and blatantly disobey him. Something had come over the Prince, however, and the thought of Glorfindel touching the King, his beloved, was absolutely revolting. The Prince's eyes narrowed and turned dark and he straightened up before the Elf Lord, raising his chin and standing firm, his knuckles bruised as Glorfindel spat blood from his mouth. Damned Princeling caused him to bite his tongue. Legolas was at least a head shorter than both Thranduil and the Elf Lord, but he had the fire of a handful of Balrogs.

It was then that the Prince shut off the mental link with his father, and it was a slightly painful response. Ears would ring for a moment and it almost felt as though a link had been physically cut. It was only temporary, however. Legolas' teeth were bared like some sort of beast and Glorfindel was highly aroused by the situation, seeing no true threat. "Fuck off..." He cursed in Westron towards Thranduil, knowing full well his ass would get beaten into the next era.

Legolas shoved a finger in Glorfindel's face, ignoring Thranduil's need. "You will get what you **_desire_** , Adar, when I am through with this piece of filth."

"Back down, Balrog Slayer..."

Thranduils eyes widened and he shook a little at the cold that hit him like a glacial wall to the face. He could no longer feel their link, and now an emptiness grew inside him that was quickly filled with rage.

"Why, you little shit..." he growled, balling his hands into fists. Thranduil forced himself to step away and was surprised at the next thought that entered his mind.

_"Have at him, Glorfindel. Teach him the consequences of disrespect."_

 

As much as he hated to see his son injured, this was something that humiliated the King and directly went against his words. Punishment could not be held back this time; those insults would not be overlooked. His eyes had turned a dark shade of orange, tinged with red. Thranduil had to control himself and it took every ounce of strength in his body to do so; for he knew if he let his anger slip his son would get a beating far beyond what Mirkwood's guards feared for. Wrath and ruin indeed would befall the prince should he tilt his father's temper too far along the slope of disobedience.

Legolas knew he had crossed the line, but so filled by testosterone and adrenaline the Prince couldn't stop now until he got what he wanted: For Glorfindel to back the fuck off. He did it for his father's honor, for his own, and to feed the madness growing inside him that he was certain he would have taken out on Elrond otherwise. Glorfindel was practically a punching bag at this point. Finally, Legolas' eyes did meet the King's, but he was not looking directly at him, but past him. Something was not right but it would be difficult to see if one did not look closely, if one was blinded by rage.

 

The Prince was clearly bristling, and if his body were hotter the water from his swim would have boiled off of him in a steamy wisp. For now, he would make Glorfindel the mighty Balrog Slayer bleed until he learned his lesson and left.

Glorfindel was not entirely too eager to fight Legolas in all seriousness, seeing as the prince looked about ready to kill him. And due to his honor, he would not let anyone best him... Especially not in front of Thranduil. A tactical retreat seemed most wise, and he raised both hands.

"I do not want to fight you, mellon-nín." he grinned sheepishly, though still looked like he would pounce on Thranduil the minute Legolas left. "If you want to fuck your father by all means do so. I had no idea you would kill for jealousy."

 

Thranduil glared sharply at Glorfindel for the Elf Lord had not chosen the best words, then looked to Legolas.

"You are making a mistake, iôn. There is no reason for you to harm him. "

Legolas' eyes narrowed as Glorfindel dared to antagonize him, and on top of it, not step down. The Golden Elf had no ownership over Thranduil. When he raised his fists before the Prince, whether to defend himself or swing, Legolas did not know. Nor did he care, for Legolas was well versed in hand-to-hand combat. Thranduil had made sure of it, made sure that Thranduil could protect himself from the dangers of the world. But now Legolas felt as though he could not be protected from himself.

 

The Prince snarled a curse in Elvish, remembering his own royal roots. He had lost himself a little when he had spoken the Common Tongue. He said nothing but instead threw another fist to Glorfindel's jaw and one towards his belly, his eyes flashing with some sort of blunted bloodlust.

 

"And he has no reason to still be standing here before us." Legolas snarled, a nasty little smile crossing his face that was not at all Legolas. "The puppy bites, Golden Lord." He spat. _Give me your best shot you piece of shit, and I will make sure you can never fuck again without thinking of the pain you were caused by this day._

Glorfindel swiftly ducked for the punch to the face yet was struck quickly after in the side. He stayed on the ground, hoping if he pretended to be beaten Legolas would give up. It was humiliating for sure, but he had to save his pretty face from taking a beating. It was after all where most elves were hit in disagreements - being a weak point for many who were vain. Glorfindel just wanted to stay in once piece, so he might live to stick his dick somewhere that night.

 

Thranduil could see Legolas going in for the kill and knew not what spurred him to act so quickly. His reflexes were without compare (as they had to be) and before Legolas could burst into mad laughter or peel Glorfindel's skin off he had grabbed the prince roughly by his collar and slammed him against the wall. With his body he pinned Legolas, glaring into his eyes.

" **Daro**." he growled, commanding Legolas to stop this instant. He was done with shit before it had even started, and would not stand for violence in such a place as this.

Now was an opportunity for Glorfindel to run if he wished, but Thranduil paid no mind to anything other than his son, who looked like he was losing his mind.

Glorfindel was not one to run from a fight, but he did not (for once) ask for this one. Upon first meeting the Prince had seemed quiet and gentle, quite unlike Thranduil from what stories had been told about him. However, the tables were now turning and Legolas seemed like a drunker, wilder, more crazed and younger version of the King of Mirkwood. As soon as Thranduil intervened the Elf Lord slunk off into the shadows, wanting no part in the beating Legolas was clearly going to get. He would get a taste of Thranduil sooner or later. The anticipation was part of the fun.

 

The back of Legolas' head slammed against the wall, and the wind was knocked out of him. It was then that some of his anger began to leave him, and he found himself staring into the infuriated eyes of the King. He knew full well what he had done, the line he had crossed, but did not know what caused him to want to cross it so damned badly... causing him to completely humiliate and disobey Thranduil in front of another Elf. Mirkwood Elves were incredibly proud, and Legolas had practically pissed all over the King's pride. He was still shaking as Thranduil had him pinned and his eyes started to soften, clenched fists relaxing slowly.

" _Goheno nín..."_ Legolas apologized softly, confusion and fear clouding his face. It was a mistake to come here, Legolas realized that immediately. But still, he reached up to touch Thranduil's face, his hands still hot. His body was on fire and he clutched at Thranduil's tunic. Gods, what was wrong with him? He stood in the eyes of Wrath and Ruin itself and felt such a strange, possessive lust for the other. Sex was the last thing he should have been thinking about. What had Galadriel done?

Thranduil was growling like a deranged warg, voice several tones deeper than normal as it rolled in his throat as thunderous as the midsummer storms. He shoved Legolas's hands away from him and squeezed tightly his wrists to the wall, ensuring they could not get anywhere. Had the King been any angrier his face would have melted; even now his eyes were becoming unfocused as he tried to glare at Legolas, feeling the very core of his being taking light as if a dry patch of woodland had been set fire to.

 

"How **_DARE_** you?!" he roared, grip turning white and shaky as he held Legolas still "AHGHHHRRRH!" That had been an incoherent cry of rage, Thranduil finding his hands more suited to his sons shoulders where he could shake him violently. "YOU CROSS YOUR LIMITS, LEGOLAS. I BRING YOU HERE WITH PURPOSE AND YOU LIE TO ME. I DID NOT RAISE A KINSLAYER! HOW COULD YOU BRING YOUR HAND UP AGAINST AN INNOCENT?!" Though Glorfindel was anything but that, once Thranduil began to rant he could not stop. Long-winded and severe like Oropher, yet sometimes incomprehensible and rash in accusations himself, Thranduil was giving his son the long-awaited tongue lashing of a lifetime.

"I HAVE HALF THE MIND TO THROW YOU OFF THIS BALCONY AND SEE IF THE GROUND WILL BRING YOU BACK TO REALITY. YOU ARE _MAD_ , SON. POSSESSED."

The rolling thunder of Thranduil's voice shook Legolas to the core now, and if anyone in Imladris was asleep they were certainly awake now. If Glorfindel wasn't scared out of his wits he was certain he would be laughing his leggings off. The Prince was getting roasted to high hell and frankly, after that behavior, the Golden Lord certainly thought he deserved it. The Prince was absolutely insane. Overcome with some sort of evil sickness that coursed through his veins.

 

Legolas trembled in Thranduil's hands like a leaf, going between bouts of fear and anger written all over his mad but lovely features. His eyes flashed from gold to blue, and back as Thranduil snarled at him and shook him as though exorcising a demon from his flesh. Gold eyes flashed as Legolas was held there, feet dangling slightly as Thranduil had pressed him several inches off the ground and the mouth that spoke to the King was not the Prince's. It was several tones deeper than Legolas' voice, mixed with the chillingly cold voice of a female. Legolas' eyes roll back into his head and he shook violently in Thranduil's grip. "Then _toss_ me, Thranduil Oropherion... coward. He will kill the Half Elf and take the Ring. You will lose him in the end no matter what you do." He sneered.

 

Elrond had heard the shouting from his study and came rushing to find Thranduil in a rage and Legolas pinned against the wall, muttering something now akin to the Black Speech. His grey eyes widened and he tried to pull Thranduil off of his son. "THRANDUIL!" The Peredhel shouted. "Stand away..." It had been many millennia since a demon had lurked in Rivendell.

At the sound of Elrond's voice Thranduil jumped back as if Legolas were suddenly diseased. Oh, no. This could not possibly get any worse.

"He will kill you!" Thranduil shrieked, exasperated and clearly losing his shit. If he had to restrain Legolas by all means he would do so but damn him, how he wanted to pull the evil from his mind with his bare hands! Stepping back as requested he moved further to the balcony railing, away from the wall where moments ago he'd been ready to destroy his son. Now confusion took over his anger, along with a deep stricken fear. What was Elrond going to do, and how was Legolas going to come out of all this? He knew Elrond had some intense magical powers of his own, being an ancient elf well-versed in just about any topic to exist in the history of Arda. But if Legolas tried to attack him... What could Thranduil do?

 

The fact that Legolas had been clearly overtaken by Galadriel sent shivers down Thranduil's spine. He was afraid, very much so for his son's mental wellbeing along with his life. Something in the back of his mind whispered to him - dark, dastardly and delicious. This was all the fault of the Lady of the Golden Wood.

The Elvenking wanted to behead her.

Elrond knew that was why Thranduil had brought Legolas here to begin with but did not let on to the Elvenking. He had the gift of foresight, after all... he knew what was happening. It would only be temporary, but Elrond needed to close off the link between Galadriel and Legolas. It would surely exhaust the Prince, possibly kill him, but he gave Thranduil a knowing look. This had to be done, for the sake of Rivendell, and more importantly, the sake of Arda. The Imladris Lord spoke softly in Quenya, the language of the High Eldar, to sever the link between the two Elves. He was certain Galadriel was witnessing everything through the Prince's eyes and he mutter a spell that bound Legolas' arms and legs so he was immobile. His silver head tossed back and the Black Speech became louder, deeper, booming like the rhythm of pounding drums.

 

As Elrond continued to chant, Vilya's stone began to glow, and the sky opened up, dark storm clouds rolling in. They swirled above the courtyard now, his voice rising with the wind so he could be heard. It felt like an eternity as the storm raged, Legolas shuddering violently against the wall, as the connection was slowly being severed. It was horribly painful for the Prince, and felt as though someone was sawing his arm off slowly. Elrond was shaking now, as this was taking a great deal of concentration and strength to keep from being overcome as well. If he were to let up for even a moment, Legolas would be released and likely destroy him under Galadriel's will.

 

Black, foaming blood bubbled from Legolas' lips suddenly and the sky lit up with lightning like a flame, and the Mirkwood Elf let out a heart wrenching scream of agony that sounded like the voice of Sauron himself before going limp. Elrond fell to his knees then from exhaustion, the sky clearing slowly and the wind starting to settle. Vilya went dark once again.

Thranduil was speechless, a hand over his mouth in shock. He'd lived long, but never seen anything like that. Looking to Elrond he could see the Peredhel was exhausted, but would survive. Legolas on the other hand looked dead, and Thranduil instinctively rushed to grab him and cradle him in his arms, knelt to the floor.

"Iôn." he whispered, then a little louder " _Legolas_." Mentally he urged his son to awaken - those dark clouds he'd seen before foretold death, and Thranduil could not handle it if his son died here, in his arms. A light breeze blew past and fanned strands of hair from Legolas's face, Thranduil watching him for the slightest muscle twitch that indicated he was alive. His body had not faded out of the visible world meaning that his spirit was not yet gone, but gods Thranduil could feel how weak his son was.

 

Glorfindel continued to watch from the shadows, having gotten more entertainment than expected, despite things taking a rather serious tone. He remained hidden, unwilling to let his presence be discovered when emotions were this high. Thranduil put his hand on Legolas's chest and began to transfer as much of his own life force as he could, repeating to himself mentally _"I will not let you die. Not now, and not ever. Please, iôn nín. Wake up."_

Elrond watched, brows knit as Thranduil knelt with Legolas in his arms, cradling him, rocking him, and praying for him to open his eyes. The Peredhel had never performed an exorcism of such great magnitude before successfully. Typically the host did not last as long as Legolas had. The Elf was strong, but so was the darkness within him. It would only be a matter of time before they learned which one was stronger.

 

It seemed like an eternity that Legolas lay there, but in the darkness of his mind, the haziness of his soul, the Prince felt his father reaching out to him deep within. His body had gone cold, but heat was seeping into his veins slowly as Thranduil transferred his strength into his son. Even then, Legolas did not have the strength to reach back, and Elrond reached out to cup the King's cheek in his hand, feeling sorrow tug at his heart as though the Prince were his own child. "I am so sorry, Thranduil..." Elrond whispered, looking down at Legolas, lying prostrate over Thranduil's lap.

 

The sky began to open up again, strangely, as it was still sunny as a light summer rain fell. Slowly, and much to Elrond's surprise, the muscles in Legolas' face began to twitch as droplets of rain coated his eyelashes, and they flickered open, Legolas taking a breath as though he had been starved for air. His eyes wide, they were a clear blue, but filled with exhaustion. The first sight Legolas saw was his father's face and his lips twitched into a weak smile as he reached up to touch Thranduil's lips with two fingers. " _Melethron_... _I..."_ His eyes flicked to Elrond, who, by the Valar's grace, was still alive and in one piece, at least he hoped so. _"I do not know what happened..."_

" _My precious little leaf.. you came back to me_." He pulled Legolas into a crushingly tight embrace, holding his son close to his chest. It felt as if a reunion of sorts was being orchestrated between them, light rainfall dampening Thranduil's hair as he bent over in slight fatigue. He had performed a trick of his own, like Elrond's but a much more intimate thing. Normally one could not give their life to another unless they were bonded, but then again the King and Prince did not need such a thing to be able to reap its benefits. They could communicate telepathically and draw on each other's strength in times of weakness - and there was much of that shared today as the three elves - Legolas, Thranduil and Elrond - could barely stand after what had just occurred.

So powerful was the relief that washed over Thranduil he breathed a ragged sigh against Legolas's fingers as they touched his lips, watching him through half-lidded eyes of faded light grey. He felt a great weariness threaten to overtake him, but here was not the place to collapse atop Legolas when many things needed to be attended to.

 

He gave a look of unending gratitude and apology to Elrond, eyebrows quivering as he struggled to keep them under control. How his emotions had done a complete 180 in less than a few minutes would forever remain a mystery to the Elvenking whose mind stayed a complete mess - something he didn't even want to delve into at this moment.

Elrond was amazed that Legolas had survived, truly. He was much stronger than the Peredhel had ever anticipated. He smiled weakly at the King, bowing his head to Thranduil. The King was a dear friend of his, and he would do anything to help him. He gently touched Legolas' damp forehead, his touch healing and calming as he spoke to Thranduil. "There are guest quarters prepared for you just down the hall, Thranduil. Clean clothes, food, drink, and warm bedding for you both. I thought you might wish to stay with Legolas tonight." He stood slowly, trying to hide his own shaking. He was utterly exhausted by what he had just done and made his way to his chambers to collapse.

_"I will always come back to you..."_ Legolas' mind speak was a bit weak but he did not trust his voice. He savored the cleansing feeling of rain on his face, Thranduil's arms around him. Surely a little bit of demonic possession could not keep Legolas away from his one true love, his everything. He sat up slowly, shakily, grateful for the lack of an audience. He felt a small tinge of fear at what had happened, for he had flashes of the King's rage in his mind. He did not wish to speak of it now, however. He could not bear to. He tasted blood in his mouth and wiped it with the back of his sleeve, disturbed by the black color. It was coppery and strangely sour. This was not his blood.

 

Finally, his voice came in a throaty whisper. "Please, tell me we are back home." It was partially a joke, but also partly serious. This journey was just beginning and Legolas wanted it over before it began.

_"No... We are still in Imladris, lirimaer."_ Thranduil could smell his son's blood was definitely not Legolas's own - no sickeningly sweet scent nor red colour could be observed, as was common for elves. _"Why do you bleed Orc blood..."_ he wondered to himself, having loved the black spill from his enemies but detesting it here. Corrupt blood of an elf. He just hoped his son would not turn into a monster. For when a pure Eldarin child was touched by one under the influence of evil... Bad things followed. Yes, Thranduil still thought of Legolas as a child. He would never stop, and always protect him with his life. Even if he did have to unleash centuries of wrath withheld at times, he never wanted to hurt him.

 

"You need to rest, and I will join you. I doubt either of us have the strength to do more." he whispered, all thoughts of desire flushed from his mind. Thranduil pushed himself to stand, for in times of great stress the elven body could be stretched past incredible limits. Supporting Legolas as best he could, the King dragged them both down the hallway to where a room had its door open, clearly designated for their use. Thranduil all but ripped his tunic off after gently laying his son upon the soft sheets, attempting not to fall on top of him as his knees gave up. If his body could speak it would cry " _enough of this shit"_ and collapse. Which it promptly did, Thranduil's weight causing the nearby pillows to jump and settle near his head.

He sighed heavily, half groaning at the persistent ache in the back of his mind. Hopefully, Legolas could not feel that through their connection. The prince had suffered too long at his father's suffocatingly protective hand.

Legolas' body ached for the softness of the feather mattress beneath him and the fluffy pillows beneath his own throbbing head. Elrond's exorcism had been the most trying thing his body had ever experienced, and it took all of his strength to keep his eyes open and watch his father beside him, to make sure Thranduil was alright. The King looked in a state similar to him, and Legolas felt a pang of guilt, for whatever had just occurred had been because of his doing. The sour smell of foul blood on the air was the least of Legolas' concerns at the moment, as all he cared about now was his father. The thought of Vilya sickened him and for now he wanted nothing to do with the Ring.

 

The soft warm glow of the sun setting had lit the room, and Legolas craved its heat to help remove the ice that felt as though it was coursing through his veins. He did not want this task anymore, and at this moment wished for his normal life once again, something he had never wished for. He had always craved adventure, and the Valar had certainly given it to him.

 

He felt the ache of Thranduil's head mixed with his own and frowned, blue eyes full of concern at his father, but heavily lidded. " _You are hurting..."_ But before he could await Thranduil's answer, the Prince fell into a deep sleep.

 

Thranduil glanced to Legolas without moving his head, for he felt it would split open if he did so. He went to answer the voice of his son but mentally he could feel a gentle warmth spread through the conscious freeze of Legolas's mind. Ah, he had fallen asleep. The king would not wake him, his precious little leaf who had survived enough trials and tribulations for one lifetime.

 

Thranduil entered a healing sleep, less of a meditative state and more of an unconscious period of rest in which his body glowed slightly and began to repair itself. Even though he had no serious physical injuries, he was so weary it was beginning to affect his health. Throughout the night both he and Legolas found peace in Rivendell, despite their earlier disturbances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suhWEET JESUS this bit was fun to take part in. Dat Glorfindel was written by both of us, as was Elrond, though I feel I didn't do such a good job handling him. Oh yeah, more art. KEK  
> [here is the page I drew everything on] http://38.media.tumblr.com/3ca3416306707292a598c1aa662b727d/tumblr_inline_ni1gw4qVFl1s9723c.jpg


	6. 2-3 : The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little rest. Also, sessy Elrond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Thranduil, Lindir  
> Partner: Legolas  
> Both: Elrond, Glorfindel, Random others, the Environment

 When the morning broke with light birdsong and a glowing red sunrise, the King was the first to awaken. He always woke at the crack of dawn no matter what he had been through the previous day - millennia of routine had wired his mind so. Disturbing his son was not something on his morning agenda, yet leaving him alone was even more so. Yet he had wanted to ask Elrond for some time about the odd nature of his own relationship with Legolas - why they could act like a bonded pair despite not being so. Such things would have to wait, he decided. He was eager to bathe and change out of these ragged Galadhrim clothes, which had not yet been ditched since their journey. Well, maybe Thranduil would keep them for disguise purposes.

Who was he kidding. One did not simply disguise themselves when they were Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm. His lofty manner and glorious eyebrows were known throughout Middle-Earth. Hell, there were probably some folk in Aman who recognised him just by his voice! He had talked the ears off some of the Noldor back in the late first age as a child... No wonder they sailed West, to escape his challenging arguments. Thranduil lost himself in his usual thoughts of _‘the world revolves around me lol'_ and stripped off his clothes, moving to a nearby window beside an ornately carved table with a bowl of nuts on it. As he picked through the bowl and stared outside, the warmth of the rising sun cast a glow across his body and filtered through his hair.

It was oddly.... Peaceful.

Elrond had woken with what felt like the biggest hangover he'd ever experienced, and he could drink. He was a Peredhel, after all, with a taste for both fine and cheap liquor when he got his hands on it. He often did not get himself so wasted in the presence of others, though Glorfindel managed to talk him in "just one more" whenever they were together. Glorfindel had at least the mind to give him a little privacy the night before. The Elf Lord knew he wouldn't be that much fun and was honestly shocked that Glorfindel was still even interested in sex after what just occurred. That voice had haunted his dreams, and Elrond had barely slept.

 

He was relieved that Lindir did not come rushing to get him throughout the night, and assumed that the Prince was sleeping peacefully. He looked down at his hand, and Vilya was still there, thank the Valar. Perhaps Rivendell was safe for now.

 

Elrond dressed in robes of deep purples and crimsons and combed his fingers through his hair, far less concerned about his appearance and much more worried about the state of Thranduil and Legolas. The King of Mirkwood seemed nearly as weak as his son. Making his way to their guest bedroom, Elrond brought a platter of pastries and fruits from his study. He knocked gently, and poked his head into the room. Legolas was sprawled out on the bed, but Thranduil was not beside him. However, the glorious King was bathed in the golden glow of the sun nearby, and Elrond felt himself blush up to his ears. He popped his head out immediately and cleared his throat, hoping Thranduil did not notice him nude. Gods, his body had always been glorious, and only seemed to get better with age.

 

"Mellon nin, I have brought you breakfast so you would not have to dine in the Great Hall with the others... May I come in?"

Thranduil gently tilted his head in the direction of Elrond's voice, the silken hiss of his hair the only sound to be heard as it spilled over his bare shoulder. He honestly did not mind if Elrond saw him naked; for the vain King held absolutely no shame for his body and would gladly wander nude as many elves of his realm did in the summer, when the gardens were filled with light and the sparkling reflections of the sun invited one to bathe in the lakes. Such were the Silvan, who cared not for modesty nor impropriety. Wandering to the side of the room Thranduil took a guest robe into his hands, a thing of golden spun silk threaded with blue wave patterns all over. Typical Noldor garments, he thought. Still, they were better than what he had previously worn.

 

"Yes... You may enter." said Thranduil softly, tying a loose knot at the front of his robe as he turned to face the door. He was covered enough but offered a tantalising glimpse at long, pale legs up to where a thin section of hanging fabric hid his indecency. Part of his chest was exposed, as was his neck in the usual manner.

 

He smiled at Elrond upon sight, a tired little thing that spoke of thanks and the calm after a storm.

"Sleep well?" asked Thranduil, taking in his friend's appearance.

Elrond tried to keep his eyes from noticeably wandering down the pale, exposed skin of Thranduil's body. The Noldor were a little more private, favoring rich silks and tapestries with which to cover themselves. Glorfindel, however, had always been an odd exception. If he could wander Imladris fully nude he would. Sometimes Elrond thought he was born in the wrong realm, yet, here he remained.

 

He set the silver tray filled with sweets on the desk in the corner of the room, the surface bathed in the warmth of the sun and poured a glass of water for the King. Elrond handed it to Thranduil and glanced at Legolas who was half naked, limbs hanging off the edge of the bed and cocooned in the golden bedding that once neatly made up the bed.

"When I did, yes." Elrond chuckled softly, wandering over to the window Thranduil had stood at, peering out over his home and sighing pleasantly. The sky was clear, and the storm clouds were gone.

"How is Prince Legolas?" Elrond turned to cock an eyebrow at the King. "And more importantly, how are you? Faring better, I hope?"

Thranduil sipped a little water and looked down into the glass, wondering when was the last time he'd drank anything other than wine. In the reflection of the liquid he saw Elrond giving him an eyebrow look, causing the King to smile faintly.

"He has not woken, but I feel soon he will be well. I myself am still a little tired... And worried about what the future holds."

Concerning the future, Thranduil stressed greatly on the immediate task of how they would get back to Mirkwood in safety - he did not much fancy the idea of going through Moria, and being greeted by the Galadhrim ready to split his head open on the other side. Galadriel probably knew she had been tricked, and was likely fuming or tearing Celeborn's hair out in rage. Thranduil feared for his old friend, who really deserved better than an insane Lady with more power than most ancient elves could handle. Madness was strength, he supposed.

 

His slender fingers trailed up and behind his neck, pressing in ever so slightly. Now Thranduil truly felt his age, due to the strange aches prickling deep into his muscles like firework sparks. Maybe he hadn't held himself highly enough and pranced around looking majestic, that's why his back hurt.

"Ahnn... I need a massage..." he muttered, always the complainer at the slightest discomfort. "Do you think Glorfindel would be any good with his hands? I have been meaning to apologise for Legolas's behaviour towards him as well..."

Elrond chuckled slightly, moving behind Thranduil and pressing his strong hands to the King's neck after gently moving his hair away. He stroked his soft flesh lovingly, effortlessly working the knots from his muscles. Thranduil was as taut as a bow string, and Elrond's hands were some of the most skillful in all of Arda. "You mean to go back to Mirkwood?" Elrond said softly, running one hand beneath Thranduil's robe to the strong muscles between his shoulders. Thranduil did not need to say it, but Elrond knew in his heart the King had every intention of holing himself off in his palace when this was said and done, never to be heard from again, likely. Just like these last few centuries. Elrond's voice was solemn, now. "She will find you, Thranduil... and when she does, it will be difficult to survive. Mirkwood, while great, is not strong enough to keep Galadriel out. She is not one to be disobeyed, especially now. You cannot outrun her forever."

 

The Elf Lord laughed lightly as Thranduil asked about Glorfindel. "Believe me, he gets a rouse from that behavior, there is nothing to apologize for. And he is incredibly skilled with his hands, but you are talking to the most skilled Healer in all of Arda." Gently pushing Thranduil's robe from his shoulders so that the King's torso was exposed, Elrond stood behind him and continued to work his muscles. He breath lightly ghosted over the Sindar's delicately pointed ear. "You wound me... I know of your curiosity of Glorfindel, but if you are looking for someone with true skill, then you needn't look further."

 

Elrond's voice was almost teasing and hidden mirth danced in those grey eyes.

Thranduil's eyes slipped closed at the sensation of Elrond's warm, soothing hands upon his skin.

"Ohh... I do not intend to wound you...." he sighed, shivering rather noticeably at the light breath by his ear "Merely... I would have thought you would not want to be bothered.. by me... today..." his words died in his throat as Elrond pressed into a spot below his shoulder blades, all tension evaporating in seconds. Thranduil groaned, long and low. The glass of water he had to place on the table nearby, for his body was becoming so relaxed it felt as if he would turn to jelly in Elrond's hands. Both hands braced on the windowsill, and Thranduil's lips parted in a quiet sigh.

"Elrond.... Mmmmm..."

 

The King of Mirkwood really did love a good massage, though it often proved difficult to prevent arousal when under such skilled hands as these. One of the reasons why he had asked about Glorfindel was that he knew if desire struck him after his body was loosened up, the Elf Lord would be all too happy to attend to his needs. However, Thranduil feared if his son found out there would be one huge fight over who gets to touch who.

 

Thranduil had not seen Legolas change for the worst in his life ever before. When Elrond reminded him of staying in Mirkwood, he immediately thought of locking Legolas up in safety along with permanently shutting the gates - controlled by his own will and nothing more. But magic fortress gates could not do much if say, one with the power to move mountains decided to bring ruin upon the Woodland Realm. Thranduil did not know the full extent of Galadriel's power, but was sure if she somehow got hold of the other two rings of power his kingdom would be in peril.

"I may not be able to hide forever.. But I sure will try."

Elrond allowed himself the pleasure of pressing himself a little closer than was necessary to Thranduil's strong, sleek body for a massage. The Elvenking had always been a delightful enigma in his eyes... coming across as arrogant and uncaring to many, when really it was that he just cared too damn much, for Legolas, and for his people. There was much, however, that Elrond did not know about Thranduil, but as he continued to rub the blonde's shoulders, his hands moving down to the small of the King's back, he rested his chin on the slightly taller elf's shoulder in the crook of his slender neck.

 

"You are concerned for your child, Thranduil..." Elrond's eyes continued to gaze out the window and he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of smooth, pliable flesh beneath his fingers. "It is what I have always admired in you. You are protective beyond measure, but...." He thought of Arwen then. He thought he had a hold over her, but eventually he had to let her go. "You cannot protect Legolas forever. He is his own Elf, Thranduil. He is strong, and as hard-headed as you. Though, it is not as if we need another Thranduil, one wilder than the first, roaming around Middle Earth." As he chuckled his breath lightly tickled a few silky wisps of hair away from Thranduil's cheek. "You cannot lock him up, as much as you wish it. I tried with my own daughter... see where that got me. She chose mortality over her kin. From one father to another, Thranduil... You mean well but it is impossible."

 

Elrond glanced back at the still sleeping Prince, who let out a rather loud, unElvish snore, burrowing further in his sheets and pillows. "He loves you, Thranduil. You may think he blatantly disobeys you, but I think he does it out of love. Your bond is strong. Stronger than mine was with Arwen." And Elladan and Elrohir.... well, he barely had a hold over those two, either.

At the mention of strong bonds, Thranduil turned his head a little to speak against Elrond's cheek, as far as he could reach over his shoulder.

"Is that why I can read his mind and offer him strength like no other?" he murmured, one hand sneaking to take one of Elrond's and coax it around the front of his body "I feel we are bonded in more ways than one... But I can never be sure."

Elves generally only bonded after marriage and a rite. Thranduil realised how ridiculous he must sound, insinuating such a thing had happened between him and his son. It was practically unheard of, and the King fell silent as the Peredhel's skilled fingers pressed and stroked with delicious efficiency. Elrond knew what he was doing, and Thranduil leaned back into him until they were close enough for full bodied contact. Thranduil could feel touches by his waist, where he was delightfully soft yet had enough firm muscle underneath that could be felt if one pressed hard enough.

 

Listening to Elrond, he knew the older elf spoke the truth. What right did Thranduil have to keep his son away from the trees and sunlight, prevent him from gazing at the night sky, to run and climb like an elfling adventurer, to take the joy from his life. No. He may have been an overbearingly protective father (and who could blame him) but was wise enough to know when he strayed close to doing wrong.

Normally Thranduil was entirely certain that every single thing he did was righteous, and nobody could tell him otherwise. Such was a hazard of the occupation of the King, an inflated ego and complete power floating him high above reason. But past his vanity and self-belief, Thranduil was a logical thinker of strategies and endurance. He was also a father who had a heart for his son, and would sway his extremist tendencies to give Legolas a mix of both protection and freedom.

As of late, he had planned for nothing other than complete isolation. Old habits were hard to break.

 

When they reached Mirkwood, then some decisions could be made. Sitting upon his throne, Thranduil could think clearer about what was best for his kingdom as he stared at it all around. But time would run short the moment Galadriel decided her punishment. Life would not return to normal so soon.

"You never bonded with your wife?" Elrond murmured gently against Thranduil's lips, not shying away this time from the King's proximity. He had always felt a strange intimacy with the Sindar King, and it was something deeper and more intelligent than anything Glorfindel could ever give him. It was strange, now that he thought about Thranduil's words. These abilities were typically only granted to those elves who performed a marriage ritual and their rites. As far as he was aware, a father and a son would need to do just that to be able to share in each other's strength and to connect with their minds. And that was next to impossible, because those Elves that dared in those rights were Forsaken in the eyes of the Valar. And that was a sentence more terrible than death.

 

Elrond could not help but react as he felt Thranduil press his firm buttocks against his groin and willed his body to not react. But it was difficult and Elrond bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan from his lips. His strong hands gently rested around Thranduil's waist, turning him to face the Peredhel. Silver eyes bore into bright blues, and Elrond ran a warm, healing hand down the front of Thranduil's chest. He would not judge Thranduil's feelings for Legolas, for he knew one could not choose who they fell in love with. The Sindar King gave himself quite freely but there was always something more special, deeper, for the Prince of Mirkwood. He had barely withstood failing after his own wife's death. It had taken everything to keep Elrond in Arda. The wise Lord lived day after day in sadness, guilt, and attempted to quell those terrible feelings and stifle them with the love of friends, warm bodies, wine, and his books. Arwen's happiness gave him hope. "Is it because you wish to save those rites for the proper Elf to come along? It is a big decision, Thranduil... the most important one you shall ever make and one you can never go back on."

 

Running a lightly calloused thumb over Thranduil's lower lip, parting the soft pink flesh carefully, Elrond's wise eyes seemed to bore into the King's soul. Even if Thranduil did not speak the truth, Elrond was smart enough to know better. "You may trust in me, mellon nin, with your thoughts. There is no judgment here for you."

Thranduil gazed calmly without search into Elrond's eyes, knowing he could trust him. Words would come soon, and whether they stopped before revealing too-intimate details or not would be seen if Thranduil could hold his tongue. For when the King of Mirkwood spilled his heart, it was rather difficult to clean up.

He nibbled on the tip of Elrond's finger as it touched his lips, slight wetness covering the tip with the sucking motion he made. It took him a while to find his means of expression, and gently he placed his hands at the slim waist before him. They were closer, Thranduil having pulled Elrond until their bodies touched.

 

"I feel for him... like a father would for their son... and an elf lord would for their lover." he admitted quietly, gaze not once leaving those cool eyes free of judgement. "It is a truer and more beautiful thing than what I shared with my wife; he lights a desire within me that brings energetic joy rather than a careless act as I had once felt."

Elves in general usually copulated for no purpose other than to bear children - sex crazed fiends like Glorfindel were rare, though some of the more ancient male elves found themselves with a growing need past five thousand years without touch. Thranduil was one of them, but his wife's lovemaking had been so lacklustre and methodical he could take no lasting pleasure and excitement from it. Sex had not been on his mind for about four thousand years - Legolas had taken up his life from his birth in the late Second Age, the tragedy up North stole Thranduil's will to live, and the War of the Last Alliance took Oropher, the last pillar of strength Thranduil had looked up to. Fucking had been the last thing on his mind - until he realised the gentle touches and intimate caresses he shared with his son gradually turned into something more. Now as he told Elrond of what he felt and thought, he could feel himself growing ever so slightly hard. Damn it, he had to pull himself away before he violated the elf before him, just because of his raw desire. Thranduil really needed to regulate that. Oftentimes it drove him mad!

Elrond shivered as Thranduil's pink lips took in a long, bejeweled finger, teasing him. Perhaps Thranduil did not know how seductive he truly was. Or, perhaps he did, and was just using it to his advantage. He grunted softly as his leggings began to feel quite tight and shifted his weight into his heels, trying to distance himself slightly from the Mirkwood King but was unsuccessful. They were both deliciously close, and Elrond found an excitement and electricity between them that he had not felt in many years.

 

He felt strange, almost dirty, being this close to Thranduil while his son, the one the King was meant for, lay in the same room as them. It was also terribly exciting. "You know I have always believed in finding that which makes you truly happy... damn the consequences, Thranduil..." Elrond said softly, running his hands down Thranduil's back to cup his firm buttocks, savoring the feeling of muscle beneath silk. He gave them a light squeeze. "What purpose is there, for life, if we do not spend it with those who make it joyous and more fulfilling?" The lines of Elrond's forehead had smoothed now, for there was not a worry in his mind at the moment. All he could truly focus on was the fire in his loins.

 

"I would like to think that I am lucky for the friends in my life... who make this long existence more... fulfilling." It was then that a smile cracked upon the lips of the Peredhel, and it was a beautiful thing that made the dark-haired Noldo look a millennia younger, a little more wild, not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "You seem like one who might agree that the pleasures in life are what makes it worth living..."

Thranduil groaned quietly as he felt Elrond's hands squeeze, hips not knowing whether to buck forth for friction or shimmy back for more of those hands. Worry still lived within his mind for Legolas's reaction should he wake and observe this rather intimate situation, but it was ever exciting to think they might be discovered like this. Thranduil was an exhibitionist in the bedroom and just about everywhere else, loving to show off the finery of his being to one and all. He thrilled at the thought of a secret voyeur watching him in his most private moments, as did he relish at doing sneaky things to Elrond while his own son lay unknowing.

 

"Yes... it is indeed pleasure which I live for. You know me well.." he murmured to Elrond's lips, feeling the heat in his body drive lower to where he had tied his robe closed. One hand slid from the Peredhel's waist to undo the robe, Thranduil's body revealed in its pale, striking glory. He took no shame in the obvious erection rising to Elrond's touch, standing tall and proud in demanding attention just like Thranduil himself.

 

"The things you do to me, mellon-nín..." he breathed, pressing himself against the cool silk of Elrond's garments "Surely makes existence worthwhile."

Elrond hissed through his teeth as Thranduil's full glory was revealed to his hungry gaze. His grey eyes dragged slowly over Thranduil's magnificent form, taking in the flawless flesh, hard muscle, glorious beauty that was only the Elvenking. This time he allowed them to linger, to take in all Thranduil had to offer. For now, Legolas was forgotten and Elrond reached for Thranduil's face, cupping him gently but without the option to shy away, closing the distance between them and attacking that sweet, sassy mouth ravenously, grinding his fully clothed body against the now nude King. It was obvious, however, that Elrond reciprocated the feelings as he ground his own hardness against the King's. Long fingers wrapped around Thranduil's aching erection and deftly stroked him, pinching the tip with an experienced hand.

 

"You do realize, your Majesty, that you are now in the most skillful hands of all of Arda. You are lucky I do not charge for my services..." The Peredhel purred in his ear. "Tell me what it is you desire and I shall give it to you..."

" _Valar_..." he breathed, dragging his teeth along Elrond's bottom lip as they ravished each other's mouths _"_ On the table _, take me."_

Thranduil had no idea Elrond could flip into a seductive, willing lover so quickly and feeling those firm strokes to his length sent a wanton plea bubbling from his lips.

"I will warn you... You may have to gag me if we are to do this without waking Legolas...!" the King gripped Elrond's ass tightly, stepping back to lead him over to the table nearby. Gods, how he wanted. To be bent, pleasured, gazed at with those appreciative eyes and spoken to by that talented mouth... Or maybe, have it put to a different use. He took a moment to make sure the table was clear of any items, hurriedly placing them on the broad windowsill before he felt Elrond pressing into him with need. Thranduil's mind was everywhere and nowhere at once, all that directed him was a vague sense of direction and his raging arousal. And he looked into Elrond's eyes, showing him what he wanted.

Elrond smirked against Thranduil's lips and flipped the King around, bending him over the wooden desk. He leaned over the King, covering his body with his own and whispering hotly into his ear, "This shall be an exercise in your self-control, my dear Thranduil. No gags shall be used. I would like to see how the great King of Mirkwood manages to control himself in the throws of passion. Something tells me you want Legolas to see this, for his jealous increases his desire for you, and that is what you want from him. You want to be desired by him... pleased by him."

 

He straightened up and deftly undid the lacings of his leggings, exposing himself and pushing his heavy silken robes aside so they would not hinder him. He licked his lips at the lover sight before him and stroked the King's quivering buttocks with a gentle hand. He slapped them lightly, tracing the length of his index finger between his legs as he slicked himself for the King. This would be a test in self-control for them both, because there was no promise that the Lord of Imladris would be able to keep quiet. His voice remained a deep whisper. "But this day you shall want nothing more than to be pleased by me."

"It is all I want..." he gasped, pushing his ass back as he was completely naked and spread on the desk for Elrond. The touches began to drive him insane, as he writhed in desperation for more contact. Once the flame of desire had been lit, it would consume him whole until extinguished by a few bucketloads of semen. Which he planned to do, taking a hand beneath the desk to stroke himself and sigh. So there were to be no gags, and he could not bite his hand to muffle his voice because he needed one for balance and the other for more sensual matters.

 

His self control was impeccable but it sounded like Elrond was challenging that, causing Thranduil to take up a determined silence for as long as he could. Alas, the King of Mirkwood was an unexpectedly loud moaner and as many of his palace guards would know - if he felt something strong, be it anger, woe or pleasure... The whole realm would hear about it.

"Please..." he whispered, turning to gaze at Elrond and move a few locks of hair past his shoulder, which slid over his arm with muscles tensed. "Fuck me..."

At Thranduil's please, Elrond was more than happy to oblige him. He pressed himself against the King's tight entrance and sheathed himself in one fluid sweep of his hips. Tossing his dark hair back, he bit his lip to stifle a groan. Thranduil's tight heat was enough to undo him, but the King's words, urging him on, were even more arousing still. This would not take long. He would spill himself before he got a few good strokes in. He knew it, too.

 

He gripped Thranduil's hips hard enough to bruise and began to pound into him with abandon. It was too much... he didn't have the opportunity for a coupling like this in what felt like forever. Glorfindel was good, yes, but Thranduil was almost unattainable and that made this even more delightful.

 

Elrond smiled down at his beautiful lover, the tips of his raven-colored hair brushing Thranduil's lower back as his hips thrust rhythmically into him. "Remember, my beautiful one..." He breathed, "An exercise... in self... control..." He was saying it more to himself than the King.

"Nn..nnngggg..." came Thranduil's strained voice through tightly pursed lips, the roughness of it all hurting so terribly good deep within. So long he had ached for Elrond! It took much to tear his hand away from himself and let his hard length bounce freely, as with every slight touch he felt a push surge through as if he would explode that instant. But the moment he moved to frantically bite his arm before he cried out, his hips changed angle at Elrond's hardest thrust yet, and struck right to his most sensitive spot.

The King threw his head back and a deep groan spilled from his lips, mouth hanging open and eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.

" _More_ " he panted, "There!"

 

It was more than Thranduil could handle as Elrond did exactly as asked, and with a sharp cry he released at the next deep thrust hitting just where he wanted it. His whole body shook with the force of it, days of tension flooding out of his body as a wave of pleasure came crashing in.

Elrond was practically panting like a beast over Thranduil, and when the King came, his body squeezed and shuddered around his cock, sending the Imladris lord over the edge immediately. He spilled himself deep inside Thranduil with a long, low groan, almost collapsing on top of the King, putting all his weight onto the shivering body beneath him. He was still holding Thranduil's hips in a death grip as he remained within him for a long moment before slowly slipping out. He ran his hand lovingly up the length of Thranduil's back, daring a glance back at the bed. Luckily, Legolas appeared asleep still.

 

Leaning over, he pressed his lips to the Elf's ear and scooped him up into his arms. "Well done, my sweet King... Your ability to control yourself is one of a kind." Elrond's grey eyes lit up. "Your son is a very, very lucky elf."

Thranduil merely groaned softly and let Elrond hold him, eyes drifting to the bed where Legolas slept. The Peredhel's words from earlier came into his mind - arousing and sincere. It was true that Thranduil wanted Legolas to please him, desire him, and practically worship the high and mighty Elvenking. Such was his mentality - he was in love with himself, as he was with his son... And could never get enough of compliments, obedience, being looked after and treated with unwavering respect. It was the world Thranduil had been raised in, and gave him values of extreme favor. Somewhere inside him lived a spoilt little princeling who missed his father and didn't care about politics at all. But as the King he had to rule, and take what he got from those willing to serve him.

Legolas was no servant, but just the thought of him kneeling to Thranduil's feet and asking what he desired sent the faded blush back to the King's cheeks at full force. Had the prince been less batshit crazy under Galadriel's control, his jealousy and need to be first in Thranduil's life would have won over the Elvenking's heart in a flash.

 

Thranduil smirked triumphantly as Elrond praised his self control, feeling absolutely elated despite the persistent ache of his lower body, wetness by his thighs and finger marks on his hips.

"I never knew you could be so rough..." he whispered, slowly licking his lips while gazing at Elrond.

Elrond smiled at the ravished look of Thranduil and laced his leggings back up, helping the King back into his robe. *He* had done that. *He* was responsible for that deliciously tousled look the King wore proudly. It was delightful, and certainly the best and most rewarding thing he had done in a while, short of driving out the demon that was Galadriel out of Legolas without killing him. Just barely. Those blue eyes drew Elrond in back again, and by the looks of it Thranduil was ready for another go. In all honesty, Elrond was too. "There is much you do not know about me, Thranduil Oropherion..." He smirked too, this time, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

"There is much to discover in this world." And with a sweep of his robes, Elrond was gone as quickly as he had come. He was a Lord after all. _Someone_ had to rule over this realm and make sure it didn't fall to pieces.

 

As the door closed, Legolas stirred from his slumber, stretching like a cat and hanging his head off the bed. His long golden hair swept the floor as he gazed out the window upside down. He felt well rested, and his body ached only slightly. Elrond had a magnificent gift, indeed. The Prince barely felt a thing. His lips curled into a smile at the sight of the King. "Good morning, Adar..."

Thranduil turned to look at his son, and walked to where Legolas was gazing at him upside down.

"Good morning, iôn nín." he smiled as he bent over with his long silver hair forming a curtain on either side of their faces. Down he went, stealing a kiss from Legolas before climbing onto the bed to lay next to him. "How are you feeling?"

 

Partially, he hoped Legolas would not be feeling frisky this morning as it would not do well for the prince to find his father sullied and spent. There would be questions, maybe resentment, or jealousy. Thranduil honestly had no clue. What he needed was a nice hot bath as was his customary morning ritual, then some way to fix his hair. Ahh, how he missed having his personal hairdressers at his service! Next time he traveled, he would be sure to bring a few. But in any case, his two priorities now were getting clean and speaking with Legolas - he had to be sure his precious son was okay.

Legolas sat up slowly and rubbed his forehead. "Surprisingly fine." He chuckled, rolling over onto his belly next to the King, slinging an arm across his stomach. The Prince rested his chin on his fist and smoothed out the King's hair beneath his fingers. "Lord Elrond is more talented than I had realized. I have never been on the receiving end of his healing." Legolas had no idea. And perhaps it was best if he did not know what had just occurred while he was deep in slumber.

 

He frowned slightly as his eyes moved towards the window, gazing at the beauty that Rivendell had to offer. It felt as though it were forever summer in this realm. The weather was always lovely here, and the sights something one craved when one was gone. "My dreams, however, were not so pleasant." Legolas saw flashes of darkness and fire, coupled with a furious King and the sound of screams, whether it was his voice or his father, he did not know. He would not burden the King with those thoughts, however. His father had been through enough these past few days. "We cannot stay here long. Galadriel will be after us before we know it. I am certain she has already sent someone after us."

 

There was that glimpse of Legolas that had matured during the War of the Ring. Serious, and looking for solutions. Not rash, but thoughtful and strategic. Yesterday had not been his finest moments. In fact, they had been some of his worst.

 

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he cocked an eyebrow at his father's manner of dress. "I would never take you to wear a Noldo robe, Adar.. For all the shit you seem to give them."

Thranduil furrowed his brows, and tugged the robe a little tighter around himself.

"Would you rather me in day-old Galadhrim clothes instead?" he asked, inwardly sighing at his son's attitude. Yes, Thranduil had talked loads of shit about the Noldor in the past. The Kinslayers. The High Elves. The guys who were all scholarly and didn't know how to party. The wise, the noble, the brave. Many mixed opinions held the Elvenking over his distant kin. Oropher had hated the Noldor with a passion, as did nearly every Sinda of the First Age. Thranduil had picked up lots of it as a child, only to have his mind see the truth when he was placed among them for a couple of centuries.

Thranduil couldn't help his racist comments now and then, even when he was around Legolas. It was a thing bred into him, coupled with all the sass and snark of his nature. Still, he didn't mind wearing their clothes. His indecency was covered, for now.

 

"I agree that we must leave soon... But how, may I ask are we going to get back home?" Thranduil peered at Legolas intently, reaching for his mind. Their connection always made him feel warm and safe.

_"The Galadhrim will be waiting for us outside Moria, should we take that route. I do not want to risk us being captured..."_

Legolas frowned at the idea of home. He desperately wanted to go back, but he did not know how. He couldn't imagine putting Thranduil through the mines again. If Galadriel had sent spies into that maze of rock and ruin, the Prince was certain they wouldn't make it out alive. If she didn't, however, it was unlikely that they would be able to survive an ambush waiting for them just outside Moria. The Prince reached back for Thranduil's connection as he rolled off the bed and stood to stretch his sore muscles, reaching for his discarded tunic and pulling it on as he poured himself a glass of water from the desk. The servants of Imladris were truly amazing. His clothing was cleaned, and there was an attempt to stitch it up where Legolas had used part of it as a torch.

 

There were many times while in the same room, while alone, that Legolas found himself reaching for communication between their minds. No words needed to be spoken, and the link was a comfort and provided him with strength and security he didn't want to admit he always craved. _"The High Pass is just north of Rivendell. It will be cold and treacherous but I do not imagine Galadriel will have someone waiting for us there. The Old Ford runs through there. We may be safe on the river."_ Legolas looked to Thranduil now, leaning against the desk as he took a sip from his glass. "I thought we were to stay here and prepare for war. What do you intend for us to do if we reach Mirkwood?" Mirkwood... Poor Galion was on his own attempting to command the entire place in the King's absence. He desperately hoped the forest hadn't fallen apart while they were gone.

Thranduil sat up and reached for a pastry on the platter nearby. Food always helped calm him, as his thoughts turned turbulent and raw.

_"We have warned Elrond, and the folk of Imladris may prepare for war. I will not fight without my army, nor can I be away from our people for too long... "_

Their people. **Shit**. Thranduil remembered the Silvan, and his ever-patrolling guards. He hadn't been there to command the gates open at the usual times each day, allowing his hunters out to protect their realm and do general elvish things. They were probably suffering - what if there was an uprising and change in power if someone thought Thranduil had abandoned them?

Mind buzzing with panic, Thranduil bit into his pastry with force. Likely, his realm was being run by Galion heading the royal council, most of which did the work needed to run the kingdom with decisions overseen by Thranduil. The gates were shut, the outside world could not get in... His subjects probably felt trapped.

_"We need to go back."_

The High Pass seemed like the safest way they could haul ass back to Mirkwood as soon as possible, and Thranduil knew he would likely survive it... But then he remembered Legolas's question. What would they do once they got back home?

He gave the answer he thought his son wanted to hear.

_"When we get back, we sort things out and join forces with the Noldor to defeat Galadriel. Something like that."_

Legolas felt the sense of urgency in his father's mind, and knew that they had no choice but to go back. The King would never abandon his kingdom, especially a King as controlling as Thranduil. There were duties that he had not shared even with Legolas, though it never crossed the Prince's mind what he would do in case he had to rule for any reason, if anything happened to Thranduil. Poor Galion likely had half a mess under his hands. Thranduil was chewing nervously now, and Legolas moved close to his father, placing a finger on his lips, as if to silence the mutterings of anxiety in his mind.

 

 _"We will return, then, if you think it best. We cannot simply abandon our people."_ Legolas replaced his finger with his own lips, tilting Thranduil's head towards him with his fingertips. " _A worried brow is not becoming of you, Adar."_ He snorted. _"You would always tell me that it would give me wrinkles. An Elf with wrinkles? Valar forbid."_

 

Legolas knew that Thranduil gave him a half-assed answer only to appease him. He had a feeling the King had no intention on leaving their Kingdom once they reached Mirkwood and shut the gates for good. There had been a great argument and rift between them when Legolas had joined the Fellowship, journeying without his father's blessing. The Prince had called him a coward for staying holed up in Mirkwood while he went to go fight for their freedom. Now, Legolas would not let Thranduil win. They would not, could not remain there forever. Arda would perish. If he had to drag the King by force to lead an army, then he would, even if he had to threaten leaving again. He would do everything in his power to ensure that they remained together.

 

Legolas was close now, observing the King's beautiful features in the warm light of Imladris' glow. His full lips, his startling blue eyes that would stop anyone in their tracks, those glorious eyebrows that perhaps displayed more emotion than the rest of his face. He traced his fingers carefully from beneath his left eye down to his jawline, grazing lightly over his cheek. He knew his father used glamor spells to keep his flawless appearance, those who did not know would have no idea that part of Thranduil's face had been marred beyond repair. It was a horrific sight, and an even more horrific situation. Elves could be vain, and not many would risk their physical beauty, even to save the life of another. Legolas felt a small knot in his stomach at the memory. _"When we get back to Mirkwood, we will stay together. No matter what."_

_"I am glad you can see sense."_

Thranduil was much in the habit of hearing only what he wanted to hear, and blocking out information that worked against his favour. Staying together in Mirkwood meant safety, and safety meant peace. Thought it probably would not last for long, Legolas had a tendency to play hero and want to do good in the world, for the sake of everyone in Middle-Earth. Thranduil just couldn't fathom it at all. The peoples of Arda cared not for those of the House of Oropher, and they never had. Why should anyone listen or look to some royal Sindar lords unless they were the Silvan ruled by them? If Mirkwood fell into ruin (as it had done a thousand years into the Third Age) it would be nobody's grief but the elves' who inhabited it. No help would come to purge the darkness, no supplies for when times were too harsh to go out and hunt. No, that kingdom sustained itself. Locked from the meddlings of the outside world, self-sufficient and well run enough to outlast the many risings of Sauron and co.

Thranduil felt no love from the world, rather he had been one with his forest when it was called Greenwood the Great, and sat amongst his flowers with a light smile and all the joy an elf could take from being in their home. He cared not for anyone but his family and folk, and any case where he had upheld alliances through military support and the like were due to honour. Keeping his word, fighting in tandem, helping those whose cities had been lost. Unless they were dwarves.

Waiting for his lands to turn lush and lively might take a while, but Thranduil had forever. If Mirkwood remained dark for long enough however, the Silvan might choose to sail west where they knew more forests than one could walk through existed in perfection as the Valar made them. They had lived since the Elder Days in secret, hidden in their forest with no knowledge of the outside world other than the news that came from their Nandor kin. They knew of peace, simplicity, merriment and the wild. And they would do anything to go back to those times once more.

 

Thranduil snapped out of his mental narrative on the history of his people. Legolas's hand was trailing down the side of his face, and suddenly the king felt a little anxious.

Every time someone paid attention to that particular half of his face, he wanted to turn away. It was like having a phantom limb - something he thought was there actually wasn't. When people looked to his concealed scars, Thranduil thought they could actually see them and were inwardly recoiling at this monstrous thing before them. At such times he always needed a reassuring voice to tell him it was okay, that he was still beautiful, and whatever else might come.

 

He closed his eyes, as if unwilling to see what Legolas thought of his father who would wrinkle from stress and have his face fall apart.

_"We leave as soon as is convenient."_

Surely Elrond had purged the demon inside him completely, for he had not gone after the Peredhel in the night. Part of Legolas was still fearful he might overreact if something set him off just so, so it was probably best to leave sooner rather than later. _"Then now is the most convenient time_." It was nearing the end of summer. The leaves hinted at turning and the nights started to grow so chill that one could see their breath. There was a frost that clung to the grass in the morning only to melt and fade away when the sun touched the green blades with her light. Within a few months time the first snowfall would come, and the life of the forest would fade with winter. Galadriel had demanded Legolas bring Vilya by the winter of the next year, and already time felt as though it was slipping away uncontrollably. They still had time, however, though that was if Galadriel had not realized his betrayal.

 

The Prince was concerned what he might do if they remained here another night, if he crossed paths with Glorfindel, if he allowed his temper to get the best of him. As Thranduil closed his eyes, Legolas shook his head and tilted his face up towards his own. He knew the King hated being observed so closely on this side of his face, but that did not stop Legolas from pressing. _"Even after all this time, Adar, you still hide from me. Do you not trust me?"_

 

After what had occurred yesterday, Legolas realized that their trust could have very well been shaken, but their roots ran deep. He did not relent. Even when he was younger, very shortly after the incident, Legolas was not horrified by Thranduil's scars. They did not frighten him and instead were a sort of badge of bravery. It was the only true memory Legolas really had of his mother anymore. Sighing, Legolas dropped his hand and squeezed Thranduil's between his own. He knew that one day, if that would ever happen, Thranduil would have to trust that the Prince found him nothing less than flawless, beautiful, and adored him beyond measure.

For, now Legolas was intent on their departure. _"I... should thank Elrond. I would not be here today, I imagine, if it were not for his help."_ But he would not apologize to Glorfindel, oh no... the bastard deserved every strike.

_"Then you may do so. Before we leave, see to it that our supplies are restocked, you eat something and I will find you after I bathe. I cannot journey anywhere when I feel like this..."_

Thranduil would naturally feel somewhat uncomfortable with certain things left on his body, things that he had to scoop off and scrub before he could even think about walking anywhere. He knew he could not be as fragrant and pretty as he liked without his servants attending to him, but at least he could try.

_"I trust that you will do the right thing."_ he said softly, speaking in the tones he used to take when Legolas had been younger and the position of irritable Elvenking was not yet on his shoulders. His hand in his son's grasp was warm, and fingers gently stroked Legolas's palm. Thranduil leaned forth, pressing his lips to the prince's as he stood with hand slipping away. He would have to wear that Galadhrim tunic for their journey in the wild, and almost dreaded the sight of the thing. But what had to be done could not be avoided. They had to run. Before Galadriel came.

Legolas smiled softly at Thranduil and stood, strapping on his weapons. _"I always try to..."_ He responded, regarding doing the right thing. He knew his father always tried to as well, as often as they seemed to disagree on what that right thing really was. He went to see Lindir to request a few snacks be packed for them before they were seen off. The last half of lembas bread wouldn't do a damned thing in the wild for this next part of their journey.

 

He left the King to his bathe and went to go ready their horses. He would not ask that Thranduil use his stag form if they could help it. Their strength needed to be conserved, and the brilliant white of the stag would be easily recognizable by anyone searching for them. While Thranduil primped, Legolas prepared. The journey ahead would be long, and a path the Prince had never taken before.

Thranduil took a long, relaxing hour in the baths as usual, letting his worries slip into the hot water and simply melt away. He would try not to stress too much for the days of their journey; he knew Legolas could feel it and wanted to be strong.

 

When he changed into the grey clothes Celeborn had given him, Thranduil thought about when next he would be able to come here. If he hid in Mirkwood, he would not come out until he received word that Galadriel was dead. If he sailed west with Legolas or died... he might not see Elrond or anyone else he knew in Imladris for millennia. Hopefully the folk in the Undying Lands would keep his mind off those left in Middle-Earth for some time.

 

Thranduil fixed his hair to fall behind his shoulders and checked that there was life in his eyes, before making his way to look for Legolas. He wanted to look proper and capable, as he always did when hiding his inner thoughts. For as fearless as the Elvenking seemed, he still had great unease in his heart for all matters regarding his son, kingdom and future.

Elrond stood now with Legolas at the gates of Imladris. The Prince looked far healthier to his eyes, but he had Glorfindel at his side just in case something drastic happened. Thranduil was nowhere nearby either, so the Peredhel was extra cautious with the Prince in his absence. Two chestnut horses were prepared, tacked, and saddled with several bags consisting of bedding, food, water, and wine. Legolas had told him of their journey, where their paths took them. It would be a week's time before they were able to reach Mirkwood, provided all went well.

 

Legolas thanked him for his hospitality and apologized for the day before, even managing to murmur something that sounded akin to an apology to Glorfindel for his behavior. Like his father, Legolas was incredibly proud, but he thought of his father telling him to "make the right decision", and did what a bigger Elf might. Mounting up on his horse, Legolas turned it to face his father.

 

Elrond smiled when he saw Thranduil approach and inclined his head. "There is the Elvenking. Thranduil, I even packed some wine and a few tunics that are more of your... style." He knew the King did not particularly love the colors of the Noldo, and opted for some deeper greens and silvers.

Thranduil smiled gratefully to Elrond. "Thank you for all you have done, mellon-nín. We shall journey with a little more comfort thanks to your efforts." He wondered if the Peredhel knew what was planned. That Mirkwood would remain the hiding place for the King and Prince hopefully until everything was sorted, and the Noldor might be left to fight alone. He also made a suggestive eyebrow gesture to Glorfindel, who stood beside Elrond and was watching him almost wistfully. They would have to get together some other time, perhaps. Now Thranduil had to make haste, with Legolas by his side and their mounts ready to travel across Middle-Earth. Though he did not know the way around these parts, he could be drawn like a magnet back to his kingdom and eventually reach it through use of whatever elven navigation skills he had.

 

With a gesture of farewell, Thranduil then looked to Legolas as they were ready to set off. These weeks would be long and cold, but at least they were not traveling in the middle of a deadly freezing winter. This weather, Thranduil could handle. He could not wait to get back home.

Elrond watched as Thranduil departed, and felt a bit of emptiness in his heart that the King had managed to fill better than anyone had in a long while. He prayed to the Valar that their journey would be swift, and that Thranduil would realize it in his heart that the Elves of Imladris would not be able to fight this battle alone. They had come bringing ruin, threatening death, and now left them to try to fend off the most powerful Elf in all of Arda, tainted by madness? Elrond hoped that Legolas could convince the King to find the courage that the Peredhel knew he had buried deep within him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes about the Timeline (I will put a link to the chart/graph thingo later)  
> At the beginning of the Third Age Legolas was about 500 years old, and Thranduil had lost his sight when Leggy was 200. Leggy would have been young but with an adult body if he chose to fight with dem serpents in the north, and Thranduil who was still a prince was eager to go and fight, having never experienced loss before. Nek minnit wifey dies protecting Legolas, Thranduil is injured trying to save them both, feels happen. Roughly 3500 years later is where we are now, at the end of the War of the Ring and about to see a new age dawn. One of CRAZY GALADRIEL
> 
> Yeah there's a whole document relating to how organized this RP is, incorporating as much canon as possible. XD THE TIMELINES ARE LEGIT~!
> 
> Oh, also. It seems that Summer fades into Winter here, but it is in fact a chilly Autumn ('Fall') that our peeps will face. There was a bit of brain derping involved. lel


	7. 2-4 : The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sex and travels! YAAH!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may want a map of Middle-Earth for this. XD oh, this chapter is a little kinky. YMMV depending on how you are with the tags ^^

Legolas urged his mount into a trot alongside the King to keep up the pace and avoid the exhaustion that would set in if they kept a faster gait for long. The mountains lay to their East, snowcapped and magnificent. When the Fellowship had attempted to cross the Pass, Saruman had nearly brought them down with an avalanche, and they had opted to take the path through Moria instead. Moria, however, was not an option this time. Legolas only hoped Galadriel did not have the ability to control the weather so far from Lorien.

 

The Prince's blue eyes were plastered on the skyline ahead, his face hard and determined as he guided them. Elrond had given them a Map, but Legolas, out of pride, refused to use it. Elves often did have an innate sense of direction, after all, especially when they were guiding themselves home. "Elrond said there might be boats for us by the river that we can take. I do not imagine our horses would delight in the idea of crossing the entire way between the mountain pass."

 

Legolas smirked into the distance, using the position of the Sun as his guide. "You are lucky you have the most traveled Elf in all of Arda as your guide on this little adventure."

Thranduil agreed upon Legolas's advice to cross the river by boat - commonly there were ferries waiting that could take the weight of a few horses and people, built to withstand a raging torrent or fleeing group of travellers.

"The most traveled elf in all of Arda?" he chuckled softly, gazing at Legolas from the corner of his eye. On the right, Legolas was riding with a proud little smirk on his face that reminded the King so much of himself. "I do think you're right. Perhaps you will have done enough traveling for a lifetime at the end of our journey."

 

Thranduil was secretly suggesting for Legolas to settle down in Mirkwood and live without needing to explore the dangerous world. There were still Orcs about, Men who thought they could rule Middle-Earth, and two crazy she-elves hellbent on destroying everything. At least, that's what Thranduil thought. He had no idea of Galadriel's true motive, which reached farther than just overwhelming power.

 

No, she wanted more. As an ancient elf who'd seen the fortunes of the world rise and fall, Galadriel delighted in tales of the brave in the Elder days, when elves ruled over all with a supreme godlike status. She remembered everything from Fëanor to Celebrimbor, Melkor to Sauron. Those days were no more, and the elves were shadowed by the vastly multiplying race of Men. She knew the precious, immortal Firstborn with their love for nature and delicate, simplistic lifestyles would be thought of as legend as greed and corruption overtook the world.

Galadriel had decided against it all. Men would die and repeat their mistakes. If she could wipe them all out at once, there could be no more.

 

Thranduil was none the wiser, and just thought she was mad. He kept his eye on Legolas, wondering if his mind was where it should be.

Legolas caught the subtlety of Thranduil's suggestion. Oh, how easily and carelessly he thought he could weave that into his words, hoping to penetrate the Prince's thoughts, and eventually influence his actions. Legolas knew better and cocked an eyebrow at the King, snorting. "As much as I think you hate it, Adar, I believe I was a born traveler. You would have to chain me up in the dungeons and keep the gates and all entrances to the Palace locked to prevent me from leaving Mirkwood." There was part of Legolas who was certain Thranduil would do it if he could, to protect his precious son from all the horrors of the world. Now, those horrors seemed very real once again.

 

He gently spurred his mount a little faster, keeping pace with the King. His unbound hair blew behind him in the wind like a golden banner of sunlight. "I am not a child anymore, melethron... as much as you seem to think I am. We will make our final decision when we reach home." Legolas' fair face twisted slightly at the sight up ahead, his brows knit. "Provided that we are not delayed." There were gathering storm clouds in the distance, dark and threatening overhead.

 

Legolas noticed Thranduil's sideways glances as they rode and frowned at the King, lower lip jutting out in a small pout. "I am fine, Adar... You look at me as though waiting to turn completely mad at any moment..." It was not impossible but, Legolas felt as though he could sense Galadriel's influence the first time, but even with warning it had been too late for the Prince to try and counteract it.

Thranduil blew a kiss to Legolas, allowing his eyes to drift to the path ahead of them.

_"You are pouting, iôn nín. Those lips could pucker around something far more delicious than your distaste for my protection..."_

It was becoming chilly as they rode, the last remnants of a bright summer chased away by a greyish brown that seemed to sweep across the land. All elves knew innately the changes of the seasons, connected to the earth as they were. Thranduil was not looking forward to a cold autumn; he much rather preferred the hazy and damp warmth of Mirkwood's red leaves and familiar trees. That reminded him; when he got back he was due to make a new crown - a family tradition he kept up ever since he became King.

"Perhaps we should seek shelter from the storm if we reach the river in time. There will likely be caves and such nearby.."

_"These lips will do anything you so desire when we find the safety of shelter, my dear King..."_

 

As they rode, Legolas tightened his cloak a bit tighter around his neck for warmth. The wind was beginning to pick up now as they moved closer to the impending storm and shivered slightly at the chill in the air. The mountains were stark and white against the dark grey storm clouds in the distance. Legolas felt exposed out here in the open. There were not many trees to hide beneath here, and Legolas was eager to seek out a cave for protection. Leaves were swirling around them now, and Legolas reached down to stroke his mount's neck, whispering words of sweet Elvish comfort into her ears to calm her, feeling the horse's muscles tensing beneath his legs. Animals were incredibly attuned to the change in the weather, and their horses were certainly beginning to sense something amiss in the air.

 

"It is best we find shelter quickly before the storm catches us unprepared within it..." Legolas urged his horse a bit faster now, riding a comfortable canter. They were far better prepared this time for their journey, thanks to Elrond. They had food and drink, and could at least enjoy a safe space with the comfort wine provided Thranduil. Just ahead in the distance, the Prince caught sight of a few dark spaces between mountains. "There... up ahead..."

Legolas pulled back on his reins and slowed his horse to a halt, grinning as he put his legs in her at the same time, causing the horse to prance loftily in place. "I shall race you there..." Before the Prince counted down, or even waited for an answer, he was off in a flash of gold.

Thranduil startled at the speed which Legolas took off at, grinning to himself as he urged his horse after him. With the wind in his hair and excitement thrilling his body, Thranduil felt truly alive. Like he was chasing his little elfling in the woods, laughing and leaping as their kind did. Light but cold rain began to fall, and Thranduil rode as fast as he could for the dark crevice rising up into the grey cliff to their right. The one to their left had nowhere to hide, and he knew they were reaching the narrow entrance of the High Pass. Beneath the mountains, Thranduil stopped his horse as Legolas dismounted, having reached their destination first.

 

"Through here." he gestured to the cave, hopping off the back of his mount in a single fluid motion. Hopefully it ran deep enough so that the rain could not reach them, coming heavier now like little frozen peas poured from a bucket. Thranduil ducked under the overhanging rock quickly, leading his horse in.

Legolas guided his horse into the cave as hail began to fall, and she followed him willingly into the darkness to get out of the painful little pellets that made audible sounds as they hit the ground. Horses disliked dark, confined spaces almost as much as Elves did. Luckily, this cave was not as dark as the mines were, and Legolas removed his cloak, tossing it in a heap just inside the mouth of it.

 

He did a quick sweep of their surroundings. Upon first appearance, it did not reach deep, and there were a few stones within that were weathered and smoothed with age or use, Legolas could not tell. It was dry, at least, and when the storm settled they could build a small fire.

 

"We should be safe here, at least until the storm passes..." The hail was coming in the size of slightly larger pebbles now, and Legolas hoped that this would pass quickly. This was no weather to travel in.

 

Kneeling down to rummage through their packs, Legolas pulled out a wineskin immediately, thoughts of food forgotten.

Thranduil sat on the floor, leaning his back against the smooth rock wall of the cave. He remained still, in that statuesque way only ancient elves could. It was as if he became one with his surroundings, not intending to be noticed or disturbed at all.

 

"Ah, pass me some of that.." he asked Legolas the moment he caught the faint scent of wine - he had a fine nose for such things and could track down anything remotely alcoholic from a distance. Not one of his bragging points of quality, but useful nonetheless.

Legolas took a hearty swig before passing it to his father, moving to sit beside him. "It is a wonder you do not dehydrate, Adar... with all the wine you drink. I feel like I have seen you drink water only a handful of times in my entire life."

 

Leaning his head back against the stone, exposing his pale throat, Legolas allowed a soft sigh to part his lips. He closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to drift up Thranduil's thigh casually. There was a part of Galadriel's hold that still did seem to remain, however, and that was an incredible lust that had not yet been quelled. Had he been allowed to get out of control the day before, Legolas was certain that he would have found one or more ways to quell his lust for blood and sex.

 

He opened one eye to peer at the King from the side of it, watching him in almost an eerie way.

Thranduil drank slowly as he always did, tasting the sweet flavours he had craved on the hour like a drowning man lusting for air.

 

"I have only drank water some thirty times in the past seven thousand years, Legolas. Wine is all I need to live… along with you." He licked his lips and sighed at the feeling of Legolas's fingers creeping up his thigh, almost for a split second mistaking them for a fat spider about to sink its fangs into his leg.

 

Hm, his son's needs were always a thing the King had to look out for. Satisfying Legolas and spoiling him rotten had been the modus operandi of Thranduil's life in the Second Age, though things had to change when tragedy struck. Still, Thranduil wanted the best for Legolas and keeping track of their last coupling was something to keep in mind. For when Thranduil was satisfied by another but his son was not, things could grow tense between them. As they were, Thranduil had been sated that morning by Elrond's skilled hands and needed nothing more than a little rest beside his son at the moment.

 

He could feel a cool blue gaze on him however, and could not shake the uneasiness that came from knowing Legolas watched him where his own eyes could not see. In lieu of turning his head, he spoke through their connection.

 

_"Is there anything you need?"_

Legolas' other eye fluttered open and his lips curved up into a sultry smile, saying nothing, the Prince moved to seat himself on his father's lap, undoing the laces of his tunic poignantly. He never looked away from the King's gaze. He had noticed full well that Thranduil had not sought out his attentions as of late. He knew he had been denied of Glorfindel at his own hand the night before, and they had barely touched whilst traveling through Moria. The King often sought out his affections in one way or another, for the drive of Thranduil was greater than anyone Legolas had ever met.

 

His fingers traced down the curve of the King's neck as he pushed his tunic off his shoulders, revealing a pale, slim, muscular torso, honed by centuries of training with bow and with blade. He had the body of a warrior, like the King.

_"I would ask the same, melethron... I expected you to seek me out. Do you find me unattractive?"_ Legolas was practically purring in the back of the King's mind and reached down to place Thranduil's hand above his heart, clearly desiring a touch. Yes, there was tension between them, in more ways than one. Despite the danger, Legolas felt an overwhelming need to consume the King.

 _"I could never find you unattractive…"_ he thought, keeping his more private reasoning of _'unless you have crazy ass Galadriel eyeballs'_ safely behind a mental wall. "Merely it is that I do not feel such rampant need after it was so quickly shot down by your actions yesterday."

Now Thranduil was not in the habit of guilting his son, but if he had to lie he would do it properly and give legitimacy to his claims. His libido had died when struck by fear the moment he saw Legolas transform. And though he wanted a piece of Glorfindel and even Legolas at that point, now he did not feel like it at all.

 

Legolas's soft skin beneath his hand was a welcome feeling, however. There was truly nobody in Middle-Earth who could compare to the Mirkwood Prince, who had the highest place in Thranduil's heart. Yes, higher than the King himself. For he would die for Legolas rather than see him fall into neglect. If his son wanted to couple now, he would not deny him.

 

 _"Alright, wake up."_ he told his dick, which had gone to sleep for the moment. _"Legolas needs you."_

He ran his thumb over one of Legolas's nipples, pressing in a little as he maintained eye contact with his son.

_"Would you give me what I wanted if ever I asked you, no matter what it was?"_

Legolas knew yesterday's turn of events was the main reason, though the Prince suspected something else. Something made him suspicious. He knew Thranduil put on a show just for him now, and while he was grateful, he could not help but feel guilt. He gasped softly as the King pressed his nipples, gooseflesh spanning across his skin as he shivered. His body was already reacting and his own hands worked at the King's tunic, revealing the pale flesh to his own eyes so they could feast upon the sight. He looked up at Thranduil then, confusion written over his lovely features at his request. It was strangely solemn, and the Prince felt worry deep in his gut.

_"What is it you would ask of me, then? Ask me, Adar, and you shall receive..."_

He leaned forward and curled his tongue around the tip of Thranduil's ear, blowing cool breath into the shell.

 _"Ask me anything, melethron... I will be anything you wish for me to..."_ Typically the hotheaded Prince would not be quite so willing, desiring to fight every step of the way at times. His need was strong, however, and he was practically dying for the King's request, eyes dark and boring into Thranduil's.

Thranduil naturally responded to the touch by his ear, and stiffened.

 

"Keep doing that…" he sighed, knowing he would be able to enjoy this private little fantasy. Of course, he would not just let Legolas service his pleasurable thoughts - the Prince would be rewarded every step of the way.

 

His hand slid down Legolas's body and curved at his crotch, cupping the slight arousal he could feel growing at his touch. Fingers probed beneath, pressing into softness and holding in a gentle lock something Thranduil would need to be rather careful with.

The slightest chill in the cave offered Thranduil a chance to shiver without looking too overly aroused - yet his ears were his weakest point and Legolas probably knew it was the surest way to make the King hard. Ah, how he had dreamed of lying peacefully in bed with his son licking him, one hand below to draw out exquisite pleasure and the other fisted in Legolas's golden hair. But such things were perverse and he did not wish for anyone to freak out if that particular kink was discovered. This was okay, if Legolas was in such a state of heated desire he would do anything for him. Thranduil could cope.

Legolas smiled against Thranduil's flesh as he felt him begin to respond. The ears were the most sensitive erogenous zone of an Elf, and the Prince was well versed in all manners of pleasure. He would give him all the pleasure in the world and it would be enough that he did not feel the need to receive. However, he knew Thranduil always looked to his needs as though they were his own, and for that Legolas was grateful. Legolas knew the King could sometimes be selfish with his lovers, for once his pleasure was sated it was easy to forget about that of the other partner. He ground his hips against the King's hand, shuddering against him as he lightly nipped the tip of his ear. He breathed heavily into it, visibly overwhelmed by his own desire. It was intoxicating, and he inhaled his father's scent deep into his lungs.

"Tell me..." He whispered throatily. "Tell me what you wish of me..." Only Thranduil could reduce him to a begging elfling. His teeth and lips gazed along the King's jaw as he moved to devour his lips, pulling back to look at him, eyes dark, the epitome of lust and desire before the King. "Saes... Why must I beg you so?"

"So sweet and complying you are when you beg…" he groaned, drawing his hand up to stroke his son's length in languid, teasing motions. " _You should know I am embarrassed to speak of what I want… when it comes to this."_

Thranduil could talk dirtier than a mud puddle but when he had to ask for anything sexual that wasn't a lustful demand, he got a little flustered. It was something that annoyed his partners to no end, when they were willing to give him anything and he would not ask.

Thranduil put a hand to his face to cover it a little, wanting to get himself under a little restraint. He then smoothed out his eyebrows and peered at Legolas, who was practically boiling with desire.

" _I will do this for your need…. and not my own.. I can see how you want this."_

His hand left the prince's arousal and moved to his butt, kneading and squeezing quite firmly.Thranduil thought about what Legolas might want, shoving his own thoughts away as they bothered him increasingly so.

Legolas was practically boiling over and he wanted to throttle his father for his lack of a direct command. The Prince loved the King's demands when it came to the bedroom. Otherwise, he would find some way to argue and fight, just to get a rise out of Thranduil. Any feelings of annoyance were stroked away by that talented hand on his cock and Legolas squeezed his eyes shot, groaning loudly as his head fell back in bliss. He bucked into King's hand and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling himself closer to his father. " _Has the great Mirkwood King lost his tongue? Or am I just so lovely you can barely articulate your desires?"_

 

Legolas smiled wickedly, reaching back for the wineskin and lifting it above their heads, carefully poured a long, thin stream of crimson liquid into the crook of Thranduil's neck, watching it pool beneath his throat and diving down for a drink. He pressed the skin against his father's lips and growled lustily. _"Perhaps a little more wine shall loosen that lovely tongue of yours, meleth... Here, have a taste. It is about **our** pleasure tonight, not just mine. You will be begging for me before the evening even begins."_

Thranduil moaned softly, the scent of sweet wine and Legolas so close making him squirm. The fact that he could hold wine in the dips of his collarbones and let Legolas drink from them was unusually arousing, and oh how he would love to cover himself in the liquid and let Legolas lick his body all over. Perhaps they could try that when they got home, with many different things. Or maybe now, if Thranduil played this right…

He drank from the wineskin like a baby being fed, gulping it down as if he had never tasted wine before. It wasn't as strong as what Thranduil had been used to, and just as he was considering how much they had left… he forgot to breathe. Thranduil coughed slightly, his head dipping down as he pressed a hand to his chest. A fair amount of wine had been spilled upon his face and he grimaced, looking at Legolas with a face that said _'o shit, did I kill the mood?'_

"Clean me." he demanded, looking somewhat petulant and mildly aroused. Gravity had screwed him over this one time, but maybe it had worked in his favour. "With your tongue." he added, squeezing the base of Legolas's length to urge him on.

Legolas chuckled internally as the King practically choked on his wine, his eyebrows knit in annoyance as an ill-tempered child might at his clumsiness. His mind was far too hazed with lust to care about the misstep and he eagerly took to the command, dipping his head down and lapping first at the wine that had spilt onto Thranduil's chest. His throat was next, tasting each delicate curve and delighting as he felt veins pulse beneath his pale flesh, the movement of muscles as he swallowed. He nibbled his way up then along the King's jaw, teeth skillfully grazing the strong line, careful not to cause any pain.

 

He pulled back every now and then, watching Thranduil's face to make certain he was enjoying each move the Prince made. The taste of his flesh mixed with the sweetness of the wine was utterly intoxicating, and Legolas felt as though he might burst in his father's hand this very instant. His mouth danced it's way across Thranduil's cheeks, knowing he was sensitive in a most uncomfortable way and hoping that he was too aroused to notice where his mouth was lingering at this point.

_"This cheap wine tastes so much better off of you, my King..."_

Light squeaks and whimpers escaped the King's parted lips, revelling in the close attention of his son. His skin had become heated and sticky, yet Legolas was thorough in his licks all over. One hand left Legolas's hardness and went to grip his hair, directing him to what he wanted. From his cheek, Thranduil guided Legolas to his left ear, which had a slight redness from the blush covering the King's face.

"Here.." he gasped, clawing at the back of Legolas's head a little "Don't.. make me ask you…"

The hand that was free now moved to dip inside Thranduil's leggings, long fingers curling around his length and stroking in time with Legolas's licks. He groaned and turned his head a little, offering Legolas better access to where he wanted his mouth.

_"Ask me, Adar... ask me to do anything and I will do it without question. I am yours to command..."_

Legolas' mouth was far too busy to answer these questions so he used the link they shared to communicate. He obliged eagerly, sucking on the tip of that deliciously pointed ear and pressing harder into Thranduil's hand, timing his own thrusts with the motions of his tongue. His entire body was flush with a red tinge, blood moving to every part of his body, setting him aflame save for his mind, which was practically jelly. He nibbled lightly to the tender lobe and tugged it a little more roughly between his teeth, knowing it would send sharp pangs of pleasure directly to the King's groin. His hands were in the King's silver hair now, for he needed something to hold on to and keep him grounded. Right now, Legolas felt like he was practically floating.

 _"Lick me…"_ his inner voice moaned softly as it reached to Legolas, thoughts not as controlled as verbal speech. " _Oh, there…."_ A part of Thranduil wanted the prince to experiment with where he placed his mouth, as the tugging of teeth at his earlobe nearly pushed him to release. However his other most sensitive place was something nobody knew about, and the strictly private half of him wanted to keep it a fabulous little secret. But Legolas's offer was awfully tempting - yet Thranduil had to work very hard to keep his thoughts to himself. He began to rake his fingers through Legolas's hair, like strands of smooth gold being parted at his hand.

 

 _"How I wish I could wrap your hair around me and let those silken locks stroke me to completion…"_ his hazy mind thought to itself, unsure if Legolas heard it or not and would cringe if the prince actually did. All things said, a kink for hair was the most common thing with elves in general. Thranduil took it to something of an extreme, always with the added flair.

Legolas delighted in the feeling of Thranduil's tensing muscles in his thighs, reveling in each tiny sound the King made and hanging on to each word, be it in his mind or hanging in the damp air of the cave. For now, Legolas could not feel the cold for his body felt as though it were made of flame. The King's hand raking through his hair pushed Legolas closer to the brink and after another sharper nip to his ear he plunged his tongue past Thranduil's lips to taste him more fully.

 

He shivered at the next words Thranduil had hanging in the back of his mind, barely audible and perhaps not ones for him to know, but he used them to his advantage. Elven hair was highly regarded, and the scalp was incredibly sensitive so tugging with some amount of force could cause great pain or pleasure, depending on the tolerance and type of Elf. Legolas had always like things a little rougher but could easily tone down his... exuberance depending on his lover's needs. Eyes like dark sapphires glittered up at the King in the dark of the cave as he slid down his lap to the floor now, and Legolas took a golden lock of silken hair of his own into his hand, carefully twirling it around Thranduil's length and tugging gently. _"Oh my, Adar... Had you told me sooner think of all the fun we could have had..."_

Thranduil was legitimately shocked and pleased with Legolas as the prince moved down after giving him a tasty kiss - ahh, wine really did loosen them both even if in small quantities. There was something liberating about being able to drink and couple so intimately, Thranduil felt free as if he could soar to the heights of bliss when he was with Legolas now.

At the sensation of cool silky hair wrapped around his cock, the King felt a rapidly approaching burst of pleasure just to have his son comply with his innermost thoughts. Legolas between his legs was such a beautiful, willing creature of dark seduction and finery...

 _"I... Wouldn't have told you... Your hair is going to get dirty-"_ his mental voice faltered and was replaced with something like a torrent of water gushing from a broken dam as a thick section of Legolas's hair slid past the tip of his length. Thranduil spilled himself into his son's golden hair, spraying it with drops of pearly white. And his hand clenched around where he held Legolas at the back of his head, body arching forwards and head thrown back.

Legolas quite liked this position between Thranduil's legs as he pleasured him, taking an enormous, almost selfish amount for himself at the same time. It was strangely and deeply erotic, making love in this way, for his father still remained a beautiful and complex enigma to him. He smirked softly at mention of getting his hair dirty. _Ah, but I am not you, melethron. A little dirt never scared me... Try living with a dwarf, several men, and a group of hobbits where fresh water can be hard to come by._

 

Just watching Thranduil come undone was enough for Legolas to lose himself in his own hand, spilling himself within his fist and on the rough stone floor of the cave. He was breathing heavily now, and he rested his cheek upon Thranduil's thighs, smiling up at him as he wiped away a bit of wine from his own lips, sucking the sweetness off his finger. Legolas did not look outside, too wrapped up in the feeling of bliss as they remained here together, entwined and warm in the chill of the dark cave as the hail died down outside, giving way now to a light spray of mist and rain.

"Now I know if I want something from you, I just have to force a few drinks into you..."

"Aiii.. how can you be so manipulative..?" Thranduil whined softly, his hand sliding down his son's face to rest in Legolas's neck. " _Though I would not mind you forcing me to drink... I would do so willingly, you know how I love wine..."_

Thranduil wondered why Legolas would ever contemplate sneaky tactics to get something out of him. Did he not know his father would do anything for him, no matter what? With a contemplative look on his face, the King looked towards the mouth of the cave. Through darkness and fine droplets he could not see much, but as the weather calmed he too felt a deep sense of peace.

"Do you plan to sleep there tonight?" he asked quietly, trailing his hand to poke a slender finger to Legolas's lips "Or would you prefer my arms?"

 _"I am your son...."_ Legolas laughed softly to himself. " _I think being manipulative comes with the territory."_ He moved up into the King's arms, wrapping his own around the strong body and drinking in his warmth. The horses snorted peacefully and steam rose from their nostril and curled in the cool, damp air. _"Well, I would prefer your arms and a nice warm bed but it looks like the floor of this cave will have to do tonight."_

 

Legolas was completely at peace now, sated and safe here in Thranduil's arms. Tomorrow they would cross the pass, and soon would be able to take the Old Ford to cross over into Mirkwood. He yawned softly, looking forward to being back in their kingdom again, but not to convincing the King he could not wall himself up in there.

Thranduil shook his head softly, wondering how his little Legolas managed to get away with so much.

"Le melin..." he whispered, leaning back just a little as he closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful resting state. With his son in his arms he felt safe, with natural darkness around he felt calm. So far, so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nnnghhh wine n' eyebrow secks. NOT BAD.


	8. 2-5 : The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels and anguish. Many tears and boxes of tissues were exchanged in the process of writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter: Jan 4  
> If you like whump and h/c THIS CHAPTER IS WHERE IT'S AT.

When the morning came, grey clouds still hung above yet no rain had fallen. Sparkling dew dripped from the plants nearby, the ground somewhat muddy with a few sharp rocks sticking out from where the rain had washed past. Thranduil awoke with a refreshing coolness throughout his body, and familiar heat by his chest. Ah, Legolas. His sweet prince with a penchant for seduction and mind games.

"Wake, iôn nín. It is morning..." he muttered, squeezing Legolas's butt a little to get him to wake up.

Legolas stirred as he felt a firm squeeze on his rear and smiled as blue eyes fluttered open to stare right in the face of his father. The cave was lit better now, though the sun was hidden behind dark clouds. He had been thankful to not have any dreams that night, Thranduil's closeness shielding him from any ill thoughts, and Legolas liked to think that the Elvenking provided some sort of magical barrier that Galadriel could not penetrate. The Prince's hair was mussed up, as it often was when he rose (he moved quite a bit as he slept) but otherwise, Legolas was a lovely sight to behold in the morning light.

"I suppose it will not do to beg for a few more hours?" Legolas stomach growled loudly, and he knew that he would not be able to sleep much longer anyways. He silently praised the Peredhel once again as he reached into the satchel nearby and grabbed a small handful of bread and some cheese. His belly did not want something sweet.

Legolas grinned as he reached out to tuck a silvery long of hair behind Thranduil's ear lovingly. "We are lucky it has been so uneventful thus far.... Let us pray the remainder of our journey is such..."

"Careful with what you say, I feel the worst has yet to come.." he muttered under his breath, taking a small jar of honey from the satchel after Legolas had got what he needed. Thranduil knew there would probably be a feast or something when they got back to the Woodland Realm; those Silvan elves would throw a party at the slightest positive event. Thinking of all the delicious foods only served to make Thranduil hungrier, and resignedly he took a piece of bread to eat with the honey. He had wanted to save most of their rations for Legolas, who arguably had a harder job to do as the alert lookout - Thranduil's sleepless bodyguard.

 

As he ate, he absentmindedly threaded his fingers through Legolas's hair, petting him like a puppy behind his neck. Thranduil was concerned about what Galadriel might do when she finally caught up with them - and whether or not Tauriel was hiding in Mirkwood, ready to slice their butts to shreds. His mind was full of concerning images, things that could happen, the worst of his fears.

\------

Galadriel had learnt of Legolas's defiance the moment their connection was forcibly severed - thus causing her to literally thrash with rage where she stood alone, in her room. Celeborn heard the howls of fury and a few things break - wisely, he chose not to interrupt his wife when she was having an angry seizure. From the prince's eyes, she had seen it all. Thranduil's concern over his son's mental state, along with his request for Elrond to heal him where Legolas's condition might be further inspected. Such things infuriated her - for no matter how hard she tried to gain control and force Legolas to chop off Elrond's hand (sending specific thoughts and the like) it had ended in a situation where everyone lives; nobody dies. Now she knew they were escaping, and could not let the two elves slip through her grasp.

And so she decided to woo Gandalf, with Narya her intent to take and use against the Elvenking. He could not hide in his forest if it did not exist...

\-----

Thranduil was none the wiser about anything Galadriel had planned, but he was not blissfully ignorant either. He worried so often about these things..

Legolas allowed his father to absentmindedly stroke his hair. When the King was deep in thought Legolas often felt as though he became some prized pup or a small child. Needless to say, he did not mind it in the least, for any touch he could receive from Thranduil was something worth treasuring. The Prince raised an eyebrow when he realized Thranduil was staring into nothing as he chewed his food, and clearly something was on his mind. Now that Legolas was awake and fully alert, something was on his own. He was not certain he could pinpoint the feeling, but every now and then since they had left the safety of Imladris, it felt as though they were being followed, watched. He had turned to look over his shoulder every now and then but saw nothing. Perhaps a strange grey hawk perched in a tree when there were no other creatures around, a silver fox in the night that scurried past the mouth of the cave when Legolas woke once in the night.

It was likely nothing, for Legolas had heard strange stories of what the altitude and change in the air of the mountains in the high pass could do to one. Some would see things, hear things, and feel things that were not real. Perhaps those creatures were never really there at all, but a figment of his imagination. Either way, Legolas felt slightly uneasy but pushed it aside for now. The lack of wildlife out here, however, was a little disturbing to an Elf so used to being surrounded by the creatures of nature.

Looking at the King, Legolas cocked his head to the side, questioning him. "I know what you fear, Adar... I fear the same. But if we can keep our heads and remain together, then we have nothing to worry about." Legolas certainly talked big, but he did not feel quite so confident as his words would allow one to believe. Perhaps he was telling himself this more than telling this to Thranduil. "Tauriel would not dare cross us out here. It is too dangerous... there is nowhere for her to hide in the mountains." It was true. Any elf would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the snow and rock.

Thranduil looked to his son. "But there is also nowhere for us to hide... And if we are spotted first, it shall not end well."

Worrying this much couldn't possibly be good for his health, as the King began to feel a dark sense of hopelessness settle down on his shoulders. The silence outside was almost threatening, and Thranduil anticipated something would jump out at them and give his ancient self a heart attack.

"We should get going soon... The longer I stay here and worry, the more I will not want to leave."

It was just like Thranduil to find a cave-like place and want to hide in there forever, even if it was far away from home. As a child he had loved high places and treetop watchtowers, only developing his fondness for dark, enclosed spaces after he had lost his sight. He could still climb trees however, but found he no longer possessed the energy nor spirit to do so. He shifted a little, peeking around the corner to see the same, still scene of outside he had observed moments ago.

"Don't be such an elfling, Adar..." Legolas chuckled as Thranduil carefully peaked outside of their cave, and gave the King a little shove outside. He mounted up and urged his horse forward, deeper into the pass. It was eerily quiet, save for the sloppy sounds the horse's hooves made in the rain-soaked mud. The deeper they got, the colder the air became, and soon the ground was frozen beneath their feet. It was almost impossible to be silent in this sort of environment. Legolas felt a chill run down his spine, and soon an almost deafening silence hung in the air, similar to one following a heavy snowfall. There was seldom a tree in sight and it almost felt as though the path in front of them narrowed. It was difficult for the horses to walk side by side, so Legolas insisted on leading, of course, ever the 'brave' one.

 

Grateful that they were able to link in each other's minds, Legolas reached out to his father feeling warmth within as he tightened his heavy woolen cloak over his shoulders for warmth. " _This silence is going to drive us mad... Don't you find it strange that we haven't seen a single living creature this entire journey_?" Legolas sighed, eyes focused straight ahead. The white of the snow capping the dark rocks was stark and almost blinding. It made it difficult to stare at their surroundings for a long period of time. He shifted slightly in his saddle, becoming antsy and a little impatient. Part of him almost begged the King to tell him a story as he begged for when he was a Princeling.

 _"Yes... Normally one would see an arctic fox or hare in the snow, perhaps a few birds in the sky.."_ Thranduil stared at the whiteness all around, actually seeing the strong reflected light with both eyes. " _These surroundings are more desolate than your chambers after the Third Age began..."_ he thought a little quieter, remembering when Legolas had begun to forsake his own room to join the King in bed, mature enough to have gone to battle yet demanding and young enough to seek his father's comfort.

 _"Do you remember how you used to snuggle close, staying as near as you could... Even in public, without caring for propriety? You were such a sweet little thing."_ Now his mind spoke in a smooth murmur, like hushed voices floating around Legolas's ears. Thranduil had been so distant, so cold to Legolas after the War of the Last Alliance. He had seen his father slain, and wished no longer to hold close connections lest he feel the crushing pain of loss once more. Legolas on the other hand seemed to have different ideas, and always tried for his father's attention in any way possible.

The warm memories of his son's affection brought a smile to Thranduil's lips, which were beginning to freeze as he nearly inhaled a snowflake. Light flurries began to fall, and the weather was not as harsh as it could be. For this Thranduil was grateful, and forgot to be uneasy for a moment.

Legolas smiled softly to himself at the memory. " _Yes, I remember. Things were so much more simple then, and I can remember those days as if they were yesterday. Things are so much more... complicated now._ " The Prince's horse's ears pricked at the sound of a wolf's howl in the distance, and Legolas felt her stiffen beneath him. He urged her on gently. It would only make sense that wolves would roam these mountains, but Legolas felt a sense of foreboding. He tried to ease his fears by thinking back on the times when he was young. The Prince could hardly remember an unhappy moment during those times.

 _"I remember when I would run from my bed after a nightmare into your arms. I remember the stories you would tell me as a child, and the way you would not refuse me when I begged for sweets before dinner. I had you wrapped around my little finger."_ Legolas chuckled, thinking he still did have a hold like this on the King. He couldn't however, stay close when he wished to. He couldn't lean in and steal a kiss in public, he couldn't reach for Thranduil's hand just because he wished for a connection. He would have to find some way to sneak out of the King's chambers before Galion or a servant would come wake Thranduil for breakfast, for he often spent the night with him. Even recently, the Prince's chambers were the epitome of desolation, for he couldn't remember the last time he slept in his own bed.

Legolas barely remembered the time Thranduil was so cold to him following Oropher's death. What he did remember, he tried to put into the back of his mind and forget. They were dark times that he wished he could forget. Looking up, Legolas watched the flurries fall and as they hit his cheeks they melted immediately. There was another howl, closer this time, and he frowned into the distance, reaching for his dagger. Something was not right.

Thranduil squinted into the distance, half expecting to see something but only hearing a low, spine-chilling howl. Now he could sense danger and life more acutely, as if it were bounding towards him on four legs with sharp teeth and a taste for elf meat. Distracting himself with the sound of Legolas's inner voice would only work for so long, for the threat was imminent and frightened him - because he could not see what was coming. Still he tried to remain calm, and could feel his horse doing much the same with a slight shiver but brave stance.

It was just their luck to be ambushed by something up here, high above the ground on a narrow rocky ledge where one could not simply just skip to the side and run. Legolas was in front and seemed ready for battle, while Thranduil desperately tried to keep himself from panicking. He really was not game these days for drama and despair - all he wanted was to go back home and live the rest of his days in peace.

 _"What is it...?"_ he asked softly, unintrusive and shaky.

There was another howl, then another and another. It was bone chilling and echoed throughout the mountain pass. It was impossible for Legolas to tell where it was coming from exactly. His hands tightened on his reins and dagger and he tossed Thranduil its twin, this one silver while the one Legolas held crafted of a fine gold metal. They both needed to be armed, just in case. Upon first listen, Legolas would have claimed it to be a wolf, but there was something strange in the howls, something deep, dark, and unsettling.

 

 _"I... I do not know..."_ And Legolas typically had an answer for everything. The snow was falling a bit heavier now, inhibiting their visibility. All the Prince could see now was a sheet of white just in front of him and he slowed his horse so that the two Elves rode hindquarter to shoulder, so Legolas knew he was still close.

Legolas could not see what happened next, but his horse reared, squealing in pain and took off at a gallop, winding in the snow, head flailing and eyes rolling. He held on for dear life as he caught a glimpse of the offender, a grey wolf that had latched on to the horse's leg as it desperately tried to rid itself of the animal.

Instinct told Legolas to jump off before his horse ran him off a cliff in its panic. The impact of the fall knocked the wind out of the Prince and he watched in terror as he watched the wolf take the horse down, snapping through the bones of its leg with a sickening crunch. It was then that the wolf did something very strange. It turned from its fresh meal to the Prince, its hair bristling as it stalked towards him. Legolas brandished his dagger and called out for Thranduil, fearing there were more nearby.

"ADAR!"

Within a second of the commotion ahead, Thranduil lost sight of Legolas in the unending white and heard nothing more than growls, shrieks and the crunch of bone. Legolas's voice soon after told Thranduil it was not the prince who had been made a meal out of, but the momentary relief was shadowed quite literally by another wolf, darker grey with warg-like fangs leaping from above onto Thranduil. His first instinct was to shove his dagger skyward and it pierced through the wolf's belly, causing it to convulse and snarl with a bright spray of red from beneath. Thranduil's horse reared and was intent on getting the hell out of there - the wolf was tossed over the side of the cliff, all that remained was the bloodied dagger in the King's hand. He tried to steady his horse but to no avail - the creature had taken fright and would not calm as intense survival instincts kicked in.

Thranduil leapt off the back of his horse, taking the satchel with him from the side of its saddle. Unwilling to lose that, he tied it to the belt around his waist in a rush and just barely missed a flash of teeth from another wolf, intending to knock him down.

"LEGOLAAAAAAAAS!" he shrieked, needing to know his son was okay. Like a predator his stance was aggressive, eyes a sharp mauve and grip on the dagger shakingly tight. His ears were assaulted by the raging winds and growling wolves, adding an element of confusion to his normally crystal clear senses. But there was nothing coming in blind rage at him now - he felt as if everything was after his son.

" _Oh hell no."_

The snarling of wolves grew louder and he could not tell if he was surrounded. All he saw before him was a creature too large to be a wolf but too small to be a warg, stalking before him, fangs bared and mouth crimson with blood. He had dealt with many a warg in the past, but he could not stop the shaking of his hand as the metal of his blade glinted in the direction of the wolf. This time was different, and something wasn't right. He felt rooted in place, and although he heard Thranduil's screams for him, he opened his mouth and found that he could not answer. His words caught in his throat and nothing came from his lips save for a breathy whisper. The dagger fell from his hands as though he could not hold it.

 

Their connection was weak, but it was more effective than calling into the storm. _"Adar... I cannot... move..."_ Legolas thoughts were racing. It was then that a darkness seemed to take hold of the wolf before him, just yards ahead. A strong voice called on the wind, to who or what, Legolas had no idea: "Ego!"

 

The wolf stalking Thranduil yelped and darted off into the snow, and the command seemed to call them all off. The storm was starting to die and Legolas could now see clearly ahead, still rooted in the snow. Something dark was near. His horse was thrashing in the snow, a gruesome and horrific sight, the snow beneath it soaked in blood, worse still stood Haldir of Lorien in the place the great silver wolf had been, pressing his hand to the horse's muzzle to still it before slitting its throat with his dagger. His lips were painted with blood and he smiled down at the animal. "I never wished to hurt an animal. Poor thing needed to be put out of its misery."

Green eyes lifted to the two Sindar and glinted. "That was a little messier than I had hoped."

"What had you hoped for?" growled Thranduil, making his way to stand in front of Legolas. He noticed the glint of the golden dagger lying in the snow but did not move to pick it up - his attention was focused on Haldir, who looked a monstrous sight.

There was dark magic at work here; he could feel it in the air. The snow beneath him seemed intent on sucking his feet deep down, yet he remained still as if challenging it to do so. Had Galadriel sent Haldir after them - placed him under her spell, given him the power of transformation and left the instruction to capture the two elves without killing them? Thranduil did not much fancy being tortured at her hand, not after how he'd seen Tauriel act under her command.

" _Does he look a little different to you?_ " he asked Legolas, honestly hoping Haldir was not as corrupt as he thought.

Haldir cleaned his blade off in the snow and sheathed it, carefully removing the blood from his lips with the back of his sleeve. Now Thranduil stood before his son, protective as ever, and Haldir took a few steps forward, eyes glittering. "Stand back!" Legolas was able to growl, though he still felt rooted in place. His blade was just before him, but he could not reach it. Haldir had allowed them to pass, albeit reluctantly, when the Fellowship crossed through Lorien. He had always been respectful to the Prince albeit a bit flirtatious. He had heard, however, of the Lorien march warden's proclivity for arrogance and haughtiness, especially towards Dwarves and those he was untrusting of.

 _"I do not believe this is the same Haldir I met in Lothloríen..._ " His eyes were not miscolored like Tauriel, who was clearly locked under some sort of spell.

"Yes," Haldir drawled in response to Thranduil's question. He moved closer, unarmed. "I was hoping for a swifter death, for I wouldn't want something so terribly drawn out for my kin. I would have closer around your throat if the damned snow hadn't been so thick. It's rather difficult to see out here, even for a creature of the night." He smiled at Legolas, his eyes flicking back to Thranduil. "Did you really think the Lady would not notice your blatant disregard of your words, Legolas Thrandulion? It seems that two of you performing the task made for one is one too many." Haldir was close now, daring Thranduil to come at him with his blades. Skin-changers played the defensive game just as well if not better than an offensive one.

 

He pressed his fingers beneath Thranduil's chin and tilted his jaw, as if observing him. Haldir's hand exuded an unnatural heat and power, and as he smiled a hint of fang could be seen in his mouth from his previous transformation. "But the truly tricky part, for me, at least, was choosing which one to take? The Prince is easy to manipulate, but the Elvenking is as stubborn as an ass. Pretty too, both of you, so it would be unfortunate to lose one of you for this world."

" _Adar... we need to run..."_ Legolas pleaded with the King. This was not good, not good at all. Perhaps they would have to just return to Mirkwood and remain there forever. They could not even trust their own kind anymore.

For all Legolas pleaded with his father's mind, the Elvenking would not listen. It seemed his mind had done a complete 180, and though he didn't know Haldir well he was confident he could defeat him. Haldir was just a guard, right? Some random dude Galadriel sent out to find them. He had some sort of relation to Legolas, as Thranduil had heard his son speak of Haldir sometimes as a friend... Ah, that meant he probably had some skill in battle. Legolas was not the type to befriend the useless and the weak.

Haldir's fingers beneath his chin were uncomfortably hot, and though they would not burn Thranduil he startled at the sudden heat. And when startled, he let instinct take over. Elves were not humans, closer to animals at heart than in body. His first instinct was to bite.

Thranduil reflexively twisted his head and clamped sharp white teeth down on Haldir's fingers, with all the strength in his jaws as if intending to rip the elf's skeleton out by his hand. He needed time, and bought some by shoving Haldir in the direction of the cliff's edge while his teeth came away bloodied and with the taste of sweet meat. In the second he had, the King swept down to the glittering gold blade and picked it up, handing it to Legolas and nearly dropping it how his hand shook with adrenaline. His other hand still held the silver blade, and his eyes changed to a darker purple to reflect he was going in for the kill. Surely Haldir would have done some fancy moves to prevent himself falling to death or something?

"The only ass here is _you_."

Legolas was shocked that Thranduil had gone to his most base instinct and tore at Haldir’s hand with his own teeth, but knew when Elves felt threatened to the core, fancy swordsmanship was not the first reaction. He caught his blade and struggled to move his feet, but the icy grips around his ankles seemed to begin to thaw, and Legolas was able to take a few steps towards Haldir who shrieked in pain as part of his hand was literally ripped off. He saw what Thranduil was trying to do and made to leap at the marchwarden with all of his strength, barreling into the other Elf towards the edge while keeping himself from toppling off the cliff with him.

 

Haldir went down with a thud and moved to swing at Legolas with his unmarred fist as they grappled in the snow. Before Legolas knew it the form in his arms was covered in dark fur and a wolf was snarling in his face. Before Haldir snapped at his nose Legolas rolled quickly to the side and reached to grab his blade again, backing off to prevent himself from losing a limb in the skinchanger’s pained fury.

 

Looking in Thranduil's eyes, Legolas saw a switch flip. The King was going in for the kill as Haldir made another lunge for Thranduil's knees, jaws snapping and claws flying. Then, the wolf was an Elf once more and he made to grab Thranduil by the throat, unsheathing his sword and ready to finish the Elvenking. They were practically nose to nose and there was no fear in Haldir's dangerous green eyes. One of them was going to die, and he was to make sure of it.

 _"Kill him, Adar!"_ He knew how Thranduil felt about slaying their own, but Haldir was no Elf right now... certainly not the one who had guided them to safety in Lorien, a place of sanctuary and hope that was no longer.

Thranduil jumped back as Haldir's teeth went for his legs, now moving completely on reflexes he trusted more than conscious thought. But all too soon there were white-hot fingers around his throat, beginning to squeeze and oh, he needed air...

So much went on in that instant, it seemed time had slowed for it.

His blade hand flicked in a snap following the wide arc of his arm, slicing upwards and through Haldir's wrist to sever muscle and cartilage as the elf's hand was sliced off. The grip around Thranduil's neck trembled with the last bursts of energy twitching through fingers that lost their heat, having no blood nor force to warm them. Haldir's sword cut deeply into Thranduil's right arm, and the Elvenking shrieked in surprise as he had not seen it coming in his tunnel-visioned focus on the march warden's face. And his blade hand wanted revenge, plunging deep into Haldir's chest over and over again until pieces of his heart would fall to the snow below and his life be gone.

 

Thranduil clasped his free hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming like a wild thing, but only found more agony as the muscles in his right arm bled with the effort. Cold, he needed the cold. Something to numb the pain. Anything. He did not think to heal himself and dropped the silver dagger, falling heavily onto his right and into the thick snow. The King curled into himself and shivered, eyes wide open and turning a worried dark blue. He was not ready to die, not here, not now, not before his son.

 _"I don't want to die"_ cried his inner voice, unaware of where Legolas was.

Legolas could barely comprehend what happened before his eyes. It was quicker than he could react, for the Prince was nearly in shock. It all happened so fast, and Legolas had never seen the King go into such a rage before. No wonder he was one of the most feared warriors in all of Arda. Haldir dropped in a gruesome, bloody heap before the King, hand laying in the snow nearby and pieces of various organ and flesh nearby. Thranduil collapsed next to the body and Legolas burst forth to meet the King, his hands shaking with adrenaline and fear.

 

He knelt down in the crimson-soaked snow beside the King and pulled Thranduil into his arms as the other elf shook horribly, the deep wound in his arm bleeding profusely. Thranduil was panicking, and the more he panicked, the more his blood flowed like a river. The King's pale flesh was turning a ghostly white and as Legolas looked down at him, cradling him, he was not certain Thranduil even saw his face. He was staring at the skies above. "Shhh, Adar, shhh... I have you..." Legolas whispered, his own voice uncertain and shaking.

 _"I will not let you die... You cannot die."_ Legolas' voice was pleading now, begging Thranduil. _"Stay with me.... look at me..."_

 

Legolas needed to act quickly, or else the King would die. He was losing blood at a disturbing pace and in shock all organs would begin to shut down. Quickly, hands bloodied up to the elbow, Legolas tore his cloak with his teeth into strips, and fumbled with shaking hands to tear away the sleeve of Thranduil's tunic, carefully peeling the fabric away from the mouth of the wound. It was going to be painful he knew, but he had no choice. He took the strips and tried to fashion a tourniquet, tying the woolen pieces of fabric tight above the wound, whispering to the King. "Breathe, Adar... Stay with me..."

"Where are you...?" he whispered, eyes unfocused and even darker now as the tall snowy peaks above reflected in their blackness. Everything was white, blurry white. Such a nice change from shadow, he thought. Nothing sparkled and everything burned. Somehow, it seemed familiar.

 

His body was unbearably hot, but the longer he laid in the snow a thin sheen of icy blue began to taint his skin. Yes, he would become numb. Let the pain ebb into nothingness, save for that odd scratching at the side of his arm-

Thranduil twitched as he felt something tighten there, above where his blood chilled with the snow and what was left of his shredded muscle lost life.

_"It hurts..."_

He could barely see the form of his son leaning over him, bloodied garments, golden hair and all. The King sighed, reaching for Legolas but could not move his arm. Circulation had only just resumed in his body, as he was not bleeding out whatever his heart pumped into the snow. His head rolled to the side, and there was so much red. Had that come from him? A dry chuckle left his throat, for he had no clue he could bleed so much. Yet it was a humourless and forlorn thing, the laughter of one who knew they could die. So bitter was the taste of mortality, Thranduil spat his next words.

"Legolas, what do you see...?" His voice was no longer smooth and controlled - it was a quiet, desperate thing. Thranduil had asked Legolas many times a day when he'd been younger - _what do you see, can you guide me?_ His vision had begun to fade, and it was only natural that he would ask for a memory of his surroundings as that too became hazy.

Legolas watched, horrified, as Thranduil's skin became tinged an unnatural blue, his breathing slowing as his words came out weak whispers, just barely. The snow was coming heavier now, and a chill wind blew through the pass, but Legolas couldn't feel the cold. Everything was becoming numb for him, his heart was sinking heavier in his chest, loss dangling before his eyes. All he was focused on was his father, his love, his light, and that star was beginning to fade. He paid no mind to the body beside the King, the reason for this... nay, _Legolas_ was the reason that all of this had happen. Lives had been lost because of him, and he would be the reason for Thranduil's downfall. He was a weak thing, and it was so disturbing how easily darkness could taint him, how impossible it was to resist. If he had taken Vilya, then Thranduil would be safe in Mirkwood, and perhaps they would still be together in life.

He desperately tried to hold onto their connection, giving him warmth, what life he could. Legolas' ability to heal was not as strong as the King's but he prayed to the Valar to spare Thranduil... he would do anything at all. Give anything. Legolas could not even feel the tears streaming down his face, his fair features contorted with guilt and grief. He cradled Thranduil tighter, desperately, fervently, his slick, cold fingers touching the King's cheek. They trembled and shook as Legolas attempted to give any and all life and warmth to the dying King.

"The snow is falling like a blanket of powdered stars..." Legolas murmured, turning his bloodshot blue eyes to the sky. Small flakes stuck to his eyelashes and melted on his cheeks when he blinked, mixing with tears. The sky was slowly beginning to clear. "The sun comes out from its hiding place behind the clouds to melt the ice..."

"Beautiful..." Thranduil whispered, as his eyes slowly shut. Had Legolas taken a second longer in stopping his father's blood, the King would have faded into a spiritless husk within seconds.

 _"Do not leave me, iôn nín... You still have to lead me home_."

And he thought peacefully of his little son holding his hand, guiding him through the forest and sometimes running off to pick flowers or describe something interesting. Legolas always had been poetic in his descriptions of the world around them - even now, Thranduil's mind was filled with a blissful vision of the harsh, cold whiteness he had only just lost sight of. If this was the calm that one felt before they died, he would hold onto it until he was no longer conscious.

It was through the connection with his son that the Elvenking held onto life, just barely able to have his body work hard enough to keep him alive. His mind had gone somewhere else and was no longer present, yet the touch of death lingered over Haldir instead of him. It would do well to get out of this environment, and Thranduil found himself thinking of his father back when the snow had been deep in the Greenwood, and Oropher would carry his son in his arms because he could not yet float above ground like most elves. How Thranduil loved to be carried, and leaned closer to Legolas. If he thought hard enough - ah, he couldn't. His grasp on reality was slipping away, until an all-consuming coldness numbed him like a corpse in a freezer. He could only hope his son would take him back.

Legolas pressed his lips to Thranduil's cold forehead, the tears that dripped from his eyes freezing on impact. He knew what he must do, and he knew he had to be strong enough to do it. If there was even an inkling of doubt in his mind, Legolas knew he would fail. He scooped the King carefully up into his arms and stood slowly, shakily. Thranduil was far heavier than he looked, and the bitter cold made his father feel like dead weight. His muscles were tightening in the cold, and it was difficult enough to carry his own weight, let alone the weight of another.

 

 _"I am here, melethron... As I was before, I shall be your guide again_."

 

Legolas looked for Thranduil's horse but could not see it, and through the snow Legolas trudged, sinking deep with the weight of two, where he would normally be able to walk atop it without so much as leaving a light footprint in the fluffy white. The Prince walked, for how far he could not say, Thranduil cradled in his arms, the remnants of Legolas' cloak wrapped about him for warmth. He would need to get Thranduil somewhere safe and cauterize the wound. He would need to heal a little before they could go further, or they would never make it back home.

 

All the while, Legolas described their surroundings as he walked shakily. _"The pass widens before us ahead... the snow deepens but soon, Adar, soon there will be a river as clear as the sky."_ Legolas shivered in the cold as a particularly violent blast hit them both. _"The sun is brightening overhead, Adar, do you feel it? The warmth of its golden glow..."_ Legolas looked around desperately for anywhere safe, and cursed silently, realizing that they were surrounded only by mountains and rocks.

Thranduil said nothing but he heard Legolas's voice, warm like the sun and reaching out for him. His body had begun to heal itself, as elves could - but it was a very slow and internal process that would take at least two days to heal due to the severity of the wound. A faint light blue glow came from his skin, and if one had not seen a self-healing elf before they might think he was fading. But this was a skill born of many injuries sustained in battle, along with a natural resilience. Thranduil clung to life as it was, and his face pressed to Legolas's neck as he sought further warmth from his son. Something akin to a sharing of life force was going on between them, though if Legolas tried to reciprocate it might drain him.

 

Their path had widened, and as was the peril of the High Pass there was nowhere they could find shelter. Legolas would have to climb down the rocks ahead to reach level ground, and at least get out of the harsh, cold winds if they were to rest.

Legolas carefully adjusted his cloak so it covered the King's face while also shielding his own from the elements. The wind was merciless even as the sun peaked out of the clouds. The snow and ice were too thick to melt quickly, and even as it began to melt the trudging became more treacherous as Legolas sank and slid, his muscles crying out for rest. The snow that still fell was swept by the wind and felt like tiny shards of glass pricking his skin. He saw the rocks ahead and hoped to be protect from the wind, as the High Pass made for a sort of wind tunnel where there was no option but to face the elements head-on, and Elves were not created for such a thing. They were not as sturdy or durable as the Dwarves in this weather... slightly superior to men, but that was not saying much.

 

The climb down was dangerous, and it took all of Legolas' focus to get them to safer grounds. The stones created a sort of wall from the wind. The rocks were covered in a thin sheet of ice and if Legolas missed his footing, they would both go tumbling down to the sharp crags below. It was a little warmer here, and strangely silent as no wind seemed to touch them here. The Prince knelt down beside his father as he placed him carefully upon the flat slabs of rock beneath their feet, wrapping the cloak tighter around Thranduil's body. He held Thranduil's shredded arm slightly above his heart, elevating it to prevent the flow of blood from moving out of the wound. It still bled, but not as torrentially as before. With his free hand, Legolas found a skin of water and pressed it to the King's lips, urging him to drink.

 

_"We are safe here, Ada... Not a creature in sight. Snow, white snow... ice... against the black rock of the mountain as far as the eye can see. There are small trees peppered throughout the snow, like the the ones the Halflings would put up during Yule celebrations."_

 

In all honesty the sight before him was desolate and bleak, but Thranduil needn't be burdened by those thoughts.

He would need to find some way to create a fire for warmth, for when night fell the dark would be cold as death. If Thranduil was on the brink now, the darkness would be impossible to survive.

 

Thranduil bleakly smiled at the images Legolas put in his mind, and drank a little water. _"I do wish we still had wine..."_ he thought absently, but did not complain for it. His inner voice was almost wraithlike, floating and echoing here and there as if it had not the strength to articulate clearly.

"Come closer..." he sighed, so softly he didn't know if Legolas heard him or not. He wanted the prince's warm body beside him, the comfort of knowing his beloved was near. Unfortunately, what Thranduil considered close was being stuck together like glue and that was near impossible for both their conditions.

The King wondered what time it was, for he wasn't in possession of enough wits to tell. Everything was either too dark or too light - he opened his eyes then shut them, preferring the dark for now. He knew they were somewhere safe, and Legolas was alright. That was all that really mattered now...

Legolas couldn't even begin to think of where he would find the means for a fire and moved down to lay down beside Thranduil on the cold rock. He lay on his left side, one arm wrapped around the King as tight as possible. He sought to cover as much of the King's body as possible, for warmth and to provide Thranduil his strength, or at least what he had left. He pressed his face into the crook of Thranduil's neck, uncaring about the blood that covered them both. They looked something horrific as they curled up together, sheltered from the wind but fair game for the snow that continued to fall, albeit lighter this time.

 

One eye remained open and gazed up at the sky as seconds, minutes, or even hours passed. He was not certain if Thranduil was still awake to hear him but Legolas described the sunset to the King, the way it faded into deep reds and purples, golds, and finally to black. The skies had cleared, and Legolas described the constellations he saw amongst the darkness, keeping his hand pressed to Thranduil's heart to make sure it was still beating, that the King was still breathing.

_"I am here, melethron. I am always here..."_

Thranduil took great comfort in the images and closeness his son provided, gently raising his left arm to place his hand over Legolas's own. He was still alive, heartbeat slow but there. His eyes were closed but he could see the stars, twinkling at the edge of his dark vision as the sunset faded into black. How lovely it was that Legolas could speak of such things, and let his father's mind do the rest. It was keeping him from fading into unconsciousness, these images and the stimulation provided as Thranduil processed the soft words.

 

_"I am glad... you are by my side... meleth nín....."_

 

He spoke to Legolas more like a lover than his child, for if he thought of the prince as his son now he would feel a failure who was being protected by one who did not deserve such burdens. Thinking he lay beside the one he coupled with, kissed and touched, traded sweet words between... This was nice. It was natural, peaceful, calming. This was the closeness he needed, Legolas's face by his neck and the gentle heat from his skin offering the presence of life. When he turned to the side ever so slightly, he dipped his head and kissed Legolas faintly on the forehead, all that he could reach. Thranduil adored him so, and wanted Legolas to be aware of it. If it was the last thing he could do... He wanted the prince to know he had been loved.

Legolas smiled at Thranduil's words, taking solace in the comfort and closeness they shared now. It was a peaceful and intimate moment, laying beneath the stars that Legolas could see, the same ones that could be described in such detail that he hoped they painted a lovely picture in Thranduil's mind. He had learned a way with words when he was young and when the King had lost his sight. Early in age, he had become an eloquent orator, with just as much finesse with speech as with a weapon in his hand. Speaking into the night was what helped Legolas focus, what helped him keep out the cold and reserve the warmth between them. The imagination could be a beautiful thing and something one could be used to escape reality. It was a weapon in its own right.

 

 _"I shall always be, melethron... forever and always_." It was true, for as long as Legolas could remember, it was near impossible to leave the King's side. He was forever grateful for the ability to bond with him in mind, for he could always feel the King near if he could just reach for him. The wind was starting to settle and the pass was dark, cold, and quiet. There was no eery quiet, save for the emptiness of their surroundings. All he could hear was his own breath and Thranduil's heartbeat.

He was tired, and these days he never felt as though he could rest. Something was always on alert and Legolas intended on being Thranduil's protector this night. Legolas the ever-watchful, the ever-loyal protector. There were so many times Legolas forgot their blood ties, feeling love as strong and deep as one might a bonded partner. He felt that now, stronger than ever.

Legolas barely closed his eyes that night, fearful if he slept he would wake up and find Thranduil cold and stiff in his arms. The morning soon came, and Legolas was still speaking softly, hoping his words were woven into pleasant, healing dreams for his father. The sun rose brilliantly in the sky, and its warmth was felt on the two Elves and the trees in the wilderness. He squeezed Thranduil's hand gently, another means of letting him know he was there as his voice seemed to flow in a soft, rhythmic mantra, speaking to himself as much as he spoke to Thranduil to keep himself alert and awake.

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes to the soothing sound of his son's voice, lips parting to take a much needed breath. His breathing had been shallow for most of the night, but now he felt the invigorating rays of the sun beaming down upon him along with the presence of his beloved prince. He had dreamt of beautiful things, of sparkling night skies and the beautiful starlit gaze of Legolas watching over him like a guardian angel. The sunrise described to him became reality as he was pulled out of hazy, healing sleep to a beautiful sight peeping through the crack of the High Pass. Ah, there was an end in sight. Well, as blurry as he could see it.

"Legolas..." he whispered, rising up without use of his arms and flexing the muscles in his abdomen "Have you the strength to go on...?" Thranduil could find words now, and spoke with a gentle concern for his son who he was eternally grateful to for saving his life.   The hand he felt squeezing his own was gently stroked with the pads of his fingers, Thranduil gazing at Legolas through his long, dark eyelashes.

Legolas' tired eyes lit up once he gazed upon Thranduil's face in the morning light. The King had a much healthier glow, and that he was able to sit up on his own caused Legolas to say a silent prayer of thanks. He had felt ready to collapse, but that renewed sense of hope gave Legolas the strength to move on. The days with the Fellowship had been some of the most trying of his life, but nothing compared to the feelings he had experienced in the last day. The feeling of love and lost was so strong Legolas did not know where one started and another began.

He squeezed Thranduil's hand firmly, nodding, smiling softly. "Aye. Did I not promise you I would lead you home?"

Legolas reached for their pack and pressed the water skin into Thranduil's good hand, reaching for some lembas. "Have you the strength to keep moving? I do not know how peaceful our next night shall be out here in the open. Galadriel has many spies..." His stomach twisted and he felt anger in his veins towards Haldir. He would not bury the Elf, or give him any sort of ritualistic rite reserved for their people. He died a monster and had almost taken what was most dear to the Prince.

Thranduil sipped a little water, his dry throat welcoming the cool liquid. At the mention of spies he would have grown uneasy, but the sight in the distance gave him hope.

"If we may reach the end of this terrain soon, I do think I shall be able to move on. My legs can still carry me, I hope..." he spoke with a quiet amusement to himself and lifted one leg just a tad, moving to sit cross-legged on the flat rock. "Ah, they are working."

Never before had he been so glad to have blood in his veins and energy in his body - yesterday he'd felt the call of death, and even now his skin was still frightfully pale. But there was a bit of life in him - and that would hopefully be enough.

The King looked to his son, and shifted just close enough to rest his head on the prince's shoulder. He was tall enough to do so comfortably, and nuzzled Legolas just behind his ear.

"We shall be safer once we cross the river, provided there is a way. From there, it is a free walk to Mirkwood and safety behind the gates."

Legolas reached up to touch Thranduil's cheek, resting his own head against the King's as his eyes swept the landscape. Things looked a little more hopeful in the daylight, and surely the pass couldn't be that much further. The terrain was starting to change and thaw, suggestive of running water and, with hope, the river they sought that would lead them into Mirkwood. He turned his head slightly to press a loving kiss to Thranduil's temple before standing, strapping their pack to his body, along with his daggers which had nearly been lost the evening prior. Regardless of the fact that Thranduil's legs were clearly working, albeit a bit shaky, Legolas wrapped his arms around the King's waist and stood slowly, carefully with him.

"Lean on me... we shall be there in no time if my predictions are correct." Legolas did not know this terrain well, but he could hear a little more clearly in the light of the day, where his senses seemed to be given new light. They were honed now, and he was not frozen solid. "A river... our river... I predict not nearly a half a mile... Let me guide you..."

He spoke no words of the day before, knowing there was a grateful silence for one another hanging between them as they walked slowly, carefully, Legolas taking as much of Thranduil's weight whenever he required it.

"Gods, what will Galion say when he sees us?"

Thranduil chuckled quietly, just imagining the look on his old butler's face when the King and Prince staggered into view, looking half dead or worse.

"He will either go mad and jump into the river, or thank the Valar we have returned. Either way, expect a scolding for running off and plenty of wine. You know how he is..." Galion was a typical mother hen figure, keeping his professional respect but still looking after the royal family with much concern. Many times Thranduil had gotten a stern talking to for a stupid decision, and even Legolas had been on the receiving end of a suggestion that didn't leave room for disagreement. Galion was older than them both, having served under Thingol in Doriath as a child. It was safe to say, he knew what was up.

Thranduil leaned on Legolas now and then as they made their way towards the river Anduin, with its still, sparkling waters and aged piers offering a ferry back and forth. There was quite a walk once they were out of the pass but nothing Thranduil couldn't handle - by the looks of things, Legolas was faring quite well too. The King felt a close sense of safety from his son's arms around his waist, even though at times his strength lapsed and they had to waddle a bit together. Their warm contact together was protective and wholesome - Thranduil at times wanted to turn and give Legolas a hug. Had he the use of his right arm, he would have done so.

 _"Do you think we should chop off my right arm?"_ he thought absentmindedly, looking to it hanging down. _"It should grow back."_

Legolas chuckled at the thought of Galion. The butler had been a parent to them both many times, and Legolas considered the older elf a dear friend. There was more than one occasion that the Elf, against his better senses sometimes, would help Legolas get away with some small crime so as to see the Prince smile. He hoped Galion would not feel a crushing guilt that this time, helping the Prince get what he wanted nearly costed them both their lives more than once.

The sight of the sparkling Anduin was enough to bring tears to the Prince's eyes, for the river promised safety. The elf operating the ferry rushed out to them when he saw the two elves in great need, looking bloodied, exhausted, and worse for wear. He offered them what food he had, which Legolas refused, telling him that they had a warm place to come home to with plenty of food in time. It was best not to give any names here, for surprisingly the elf did not recognize his two customers as Thranduil and Legolas of Mirkwood. It was probably for the best, for Legolas was cautious of giving too much information in these dark times to those he did not know.

The crossing was peaceful, and the elf refused payment, his eyes glued to Thranduil's injury practically the entire time. Legolas was grateful, as they had no payment to give other than their thanks. Carefully, slowly Legolas helped Thranduil from the ferry. The great forest was just ahead. It was a walk for sure but Legolas already felt stronger upon sight and proximity to home.

 _"Chop it off?"_ Legolas looked horrified for a moment. _"I would say I would rather not risk it. Just in case..."_

Legolas stopped then, turning to Thranduil, his father still held protectively in his arms and looked him straight in the eyes, his own sorrowful and full of guilt. "I am sorry for everything, Adar..."

_"I was weak, and I should not have dragged you into this mess with me... I nearly killed you..."_

Thranduil gazed into his son's eyes, now able to see half clearly due to how close they were. He did not blame his son, no longer with the heart to berate him upon disobeying his orders more than a week ago.

"You did what you could, iôn nín." he murmured, pressing his forehead to Legolas's. "And now you have brought us home."

_"Everyone makes mistakes. I forgive you."_

And he would speak no further on the matter, leaving no room for argument or plea.

It took them an hour towards Mirkwood before they came upon the Old Forest Road, passing the southern side of the Mirkwood Mountains and leading straight ahead. However Thranduil and Legolas were no casual travellers; this forest was their home and they knew it better than anyone else. They turned north and left the road, heading for their kingdom in the northeast while following the black enchanted river. Thranduil could feel his strength returning with the presence of the forest all around him, familiar trees and ancient emotions stirring within. Yes, this was where he belonged. In a land none dared enter, his element of illusion and darkness. It brought a smile to his lips.

_"We are almost there."_

The air was pleasantly cool in the forest while they walked, not bone chilling and deathly cold as the High Pass had been. The leaves of Mirkwood were changing, deep reds, oranges, and golds hung above their heads, and some of the leaves were even beginning to fall around them as they walked. The river beside them quietly rushed over rocks and the the gentle crunch of leaves and twigs beneath his feet (for he had no wherewithal to try and be stealthy at this point, not in their own home), combined with the warmth of Thranduil in his arms relaxed him beyond measure. It was the first time in months that his mind had been entirely at peace. For now, at least, he hoped he was far enough away to be protected from Galadriel's influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrandiddly doo :( poor bae. Such a brave darling even in the face of terror.


	9. 3-1 : Return to Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long, kinky and delectable smut scene following some much-needed care for the Royal Family. The debauchery shall only continue. 'Tis Mirkwood, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kinks in this chapter are preluded by a selection of words that hint towards what they will be. There is also a surprise one thrown in here, so if you like a show of submission, it will hopefully please you.  
> Idk if I should be warning you readers about what's going on. I don't wanna spoil ya, but at the same time don't want anyone to be like 'wat da fuk is this lol'

It took some time, but soon their palace was within view, standing great and tall amongst the trees. Patrolling guards had caught sight of their King and Prince's return and must have quickly sent word to those standing at it's gates, for they were already open, and there were a line of guards on either side of the bridge leading up to the huge doors, on bended knee, paving the way within. Legolas had never seen such a homecoming in years, and while he was desperately happy to be here, he knew deep in his heart it was going to be next to impossible to get his father to leave again.

_"I suppose they were expecting us..."_ Legolas was stating the obvious as he was accustomed to do, of course, for who else would their people show such great respect to if not their King and his only son?

A weary smile came across the Elvenking's face, at the sight of guards and hunters alike from the day they searched for Tauriel having waited diligently outside the closed gates for Thranduil. They were loyal, and still protected the Woodland Realm even in the King's absence. He made a single gesture with one hand for all of them to come inside, and they followed in double file by rank until everyone was safely inside the fortress-like halls. Through mental command, Thranduil shut the gates - permanently, until he next chose to open them for a patrol or emergency.

_"Yes... They know I would not leave them so easily, nor abandon them without leaving a future King in place..."_ The Woodland Realm was abuzz with excitement, many elves making way along the curved paths of rock spiralling all over Thranduil's halls as they watched the procession. Thranduil was heading for the palace, half leading Legolas there as he knew his kingdom so well he could navigate without help. It hadn't always been that way. He caught sight of the familiar dim, amber lights on either side of the huge golden doors and the two guards on either side had never looked happier to open them for their Prince and King.

Once inside however, they were greeted by Galion who nearly had a stroke at the sight of them.

"Thank the Valar!" he exclaimed, just barely restraining himself from hugging the two when he could see one was injured "You have returned..." What followed would be a call to the healers, preparations for a good meal and some rest, and whatever else Thranduil asked for. He could order weeks of organised activity for his realm, and it would be done. As he was now, he grinned sheepishly as if expecting a reprimand.

The chatter of their people rose high in the air and Legolas watched the faces of those they passed. All around them Legolas caught hints of conversation as they made their way into the palace, words and tones of nothing but joy and relief at the return of their beloved King. The Elves of this realm were as loyal as any subjects could be, and they both loved and respected Thranduil. His word and command was what their people had come to trust, and that same respect was granted to Legolas.

 

His lips curled into a smile at the sight of Galion standing and waiting for them, looking ready to envelope them both in the most aggressive hug Legolas was certain he would ever witness. Legolas felt as though he were practically being dragged towards the royal butler, for he knew his father had learned these halls like the back of his hand. Now that they were safe within the palace walls, Thranduil was ruler over ever wall, door, window, and step in this place. He was shocked that Galion did not squeal in panic at the sight of Thranduil's shredded arm and the makeshift tourniquet the Prince had created. They looked like prisoners of war coming before Galion, though Thranduil always managed to hold himself like royalty, damn the costs and discomfort.

 

Reaching out, Legolas grasped Galion's shoulder and squeezed it firmly in thanks, grateful that the other elf did not await Thranduil's command. He needed a healer promptly, and a servant nearby promptly pressed a full glass of wine into the Elvenking's good hand, bowing deeply. Legolas gazed upon the great hall and nodded with approval. "You have done well, Galion..." Legolas smiled. "If I were the one in charge I am certain that this place would have been turned upside down in the absence of our King."

 

It took only a few moments for the Elves Galion had requested to line up before Thranduil, several healers and servants waiting to guide Thranduil wherever he desired... waiting at his beck and call for a hot bath, a warm meal, or whatever he wished.

"I do try." said Galion shyly, having worked his ass off to keep the kingdom running, a few steps away from pretending to be King. Thranduil took a long sip of wine and sighed, nodding to the chief healer stood nearby to go and get things prepared.

"Legolas, I wish for you to come with me and get yourself seen to..." he looked to his son and straightened up, assuming the most majestic pose he could currently handle. "Galion, there are also some things I'd like you to sort out..." he gestured to the pack Legolas had, which still contained Thranduil's crown and those bloodied white robes he really couldn't afford to throw away. "And everyone else.. may remain on standby."

 

It felt good to order people around; Thranduil was used to being bossy and his servants would actually become distressed if they weren't given any tasks to do. They lived for their King's will, and would also serve Legolas if needed.

 

Without awaiting anything further, Thranduil started in the direction of the healing chambers and bade Legolas to follow him. Everyone soon went about what they were instructed to do, and Galion gave Legolas a look that said " _Look after yourself."_

Legolas handed Galion the pack that held their only and most prized traveling possessions, and the Prince also entrusted the Elf with his blades that required cleaning and sharpening. Rarely did the Prince neglect his weapons, and often times his bow and his blade came before tending to himself. As all went about their normal routine Legolas quickly followed Thranduil down the hall, having to take long strides to close the distance between them before coming up along the King's side. Their healers followed closely behind them as they made their way to the healing chambers.

Always the stubborn elf, even now, Legolas frowned slightly at Thranduil, not wishing to argue openly in front of their people. _"I am fine, Adar... you are the one who was near death yesterday. I was barely scratched. I believe it is **you** who needs some looking after. A hot meal and a warm bed is all I require this night."_

And some sleep. Gods, some actual sleep would be lovely. He had been on high alert since they had left Rivendell. Lack of sleep, however, was enough to lead anyone to madness, and the Eldar were not completely immune.

Once they had reached the chambers, the healers gathered around Thranduil and sat him down, helping to remove his cloak and tunic, preparing various herbs and tonics from the very forest they dwelt in. While their healing abilities were no match to that of Elrond's, they were incredibly skilled and Thranduil kept only the best on hand. Legolas stood and watched. The healing process, while swift, could be incredibly painful.

A healer came to Legolas to check on the Prince, but he waved her away almost immediately, firmly telling her that he was fine and that all attention should be focused on the King. When that was through, then they could look after him, if only to appease Thranduil. Maybe.

_"I want you beside me..."_ Thranduil thought, looking to Legolas meaningfully as his clothes were removed. Only one thing remained and that was on his arm, still as tight as ever.

The most skilled healer in the Woodland Realm, Gilneth of the Sindar was observing Thranduil's state and when he turned to take a look at the King's arm, the sight of it startled him.

One of the healers clasped a hand to her mouth, and looked to Gilneth in shock. He made a face that urged her to be calm, then looked to Thranduil worriedly. They were used to seeing terrible wounds - spider bites with lungs pierced by huge fangs, elves with holes from poisoned arrows that ate the flesh from their bodies, cruel symbols carved by orcs in mocking red gashes all over... But seeing such a raw and dark wound in the side of their King's arm made it all the more stressful and traumatic to heal. They had to do this right, or he could lose his arm forever.

 

"Your Majesty, if you could please be still... I am going to remove the cloth from here, it may hurt a little..." Gilneth spoke as he did with all his patients, albeit with more status-inclined respect and careful wording. He was not one to order his King around, nor was he in any position to assume Thranduil's strength. Thranduil however was not in the mood for pain, and stilled himself so suddenly it was like he had turned to stone. Gilneth gestured to the female healer beside him, who went by the name of Elenwen, to fetch all they would need for cleaning the blood from Thranduil's arm. As she gathered the prepared numbing herbs and cleansing liquids, Gilneth carefully peeled away the piece of fabric Legolas had used as a tourniquet, seeing that the King's blood had clotted and was not sustaining any infections.

It was better to prevent such things before they started, and the process of sterilisation was often a stinging one. Elenwen handed Thranduil a bowl to drink from, one that usually served precious potions and expensive liquor. Thranduil's eyes lit up and he asked hopefully, "Is it wine?" Of course one glass wouldn't be enough for him.

 

She shook her head and smiled nervously, telling him it was something to dull the pain of what was soon to come. He had only finished drinking it with a grimace at the taste when a sharp pain prickled at his arm, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"You'll be okay.." Gilneth said smoothly, his hands glowing white as they moved with a light cloth to dab at the edges of Thranduil's wound. It seemed like the stinging lasted an eternity, and though the King was rather tough he had to hide his face in Legolas's side out of embarrassment for his reactions. He quietly wished for a hand in his hair and his son's mental connection, and focused on his son's presence beside him.

 

Legolas moved immediately to side at his father's left side, Elenwen quickly making way so that the Prince had room. He grimaced at the sight of the bowl of surprisingly viscous and strong-smelling liquid. The herbs and potions that were the most healing, the most numbing somehow were the most bitter and tasted the foulest. Legolas had become well-accustomed to drinking from that bowl as he grew up, starting out his days as a warrior rather reckless and overestimating his skill early on. He felt Thranduil tense, and judging by the look of the wound, this was going to be an especially agonizing process, though he knew Gilneth would try to make it as smooth and painless as possible. In Legolas' eyes, there was nothing Gilneth couldn't heal. Broken bones, gaping wounds, poisons, Legolas had seen this healer do it all. He entrusted Thranduil's health fully in Gilneth's capable hands.

 

Reaching up to stroke Thranduil's soft, silver hair, Legolas pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. His other hand reached to entwine in the King's free one, squeezing tightly to let him know he could hold on as tight as he wished and that none would know his true suffering save for Legolas. This knowledge was safe with him, after all.

 

Legolas watched the healers intently, taking in every movement and motion, every word in case he were to have to do this on his own one day. He prayed to the Valar that he would never have to deal with such a severe injury, but after what they had encountered Legolas knew in his heart that they were more at risk than ever.

 

Legolas' voice was soft and melodic in Thranduil's head, calming and gentle. _"You would always be seated where I am now, Adar... How many times did I have to come and sit in this very spot each week?"_ The answer was 'countless'. Legolas had always found his way into some sort of trouble, be it attempting to ride various creatures of the wood that were meant to be wild, climbing trees that were much too high and the only way to get down was to jump, injuries with his swords. There were many times that even the smallest paper cut sent Legolas screaming to his father, begging him to take him to the healing chambers immediately because he feared his finger would "fall off". " _You must have lived in a constant state of worry. I was not... the easiest child."_

Thranduil was very grateful for the distraction and comfort his son's inner voice provided, and as the stinging intensified he found himself straining to answer.

_"You were by no means easy... So much like me, though less of a crybaby I'd imagine. I did worry for you, and it took much outside influence to persuade me to let you run about in the forest."_

Legolas would have been kept in the palace were it not for his mother nagging at Thranduil to let their son run free. Back in the Second Age, their capital had been in the south of the Greenwood, at Amon Lanc. High up in the trees Oropher had his throne, and many branches created paths from there leading to other places of importance. The elves had lived in huts as was the Silvan custom, on the ground or in the trees with a close-knit community formed. The royal family had something like a ten-story abode reaching up to the sky, and Thranduil wanted to fence off the place so Legolas wouldn't fall. Alas, his little elfling had all the grace and balance of their kin and would not fall from anywhere unless he jumped, or was pushed. Thranduil took it upon himself to heal the many injuries of his son be it a sharp leaf cut or bruise from smacking into something while running at high speed - and always, _always_ told him to be more careful.

"Even now I cannot stop you from dashing out the gates the minute my back is turned.." he smiled a little at that, leaning into Legolas's hand.

The stinging had faded away, and Thranduil looked to see Gilneth dabbing a soft wet cloth to where he'd just cleaned. Were it not for the exposed muscle twitching in Thranduil's arm, he would have looked as if he'd just came out of a bath. Watching with interest, the King saw lines begin to curl down his arm, from where Gilneth placed a single glowing finger to the top of his shoulder. The lines became lit with green and gold leaf patterns - Thranduil realised what the healer was doing. Elenwen took hold of Thranduil's hand and raised it up, a magic sigil appearing just above the King's wrist. His greyed flesh began to glow and slowly but surely, his muscles began to regenerate. In long, thin strips they stretched over bone and twisted over themselves, nothing to be heard but soft chanting and a slight ringing, a bit like the echo of shattering glass played in reverse. His blood flowed from the broken clot, rushing through his skin with a warm, rushing tingle. Thranduil shivered a bit, and Gilneth soon drew his fingers down the lines to repair skin until there was almost no sign of Thranduil's injury. The King moved his fingers, and Elenwen gently set his hand down.

"It is done." she said, and looked to Gilneth who nodded in reply. Now Thranduil's arm looked completely normal, though felt a bit stiff to move.

"Be careful with that, and try not to fight anything." Gilneth advised, knowing those muscles would take time to reconnect with what they had been used to - reflexes and autonomous motions alike.

_"And even now it still takes much outside influence for you to even allow me outside the palace gates. Something tells me that shall never change."_

Legolas watched in amazement at the power of Elven magic, the way the shredded, bleeding flesh that could barely be recognizable as part of an arm renewed, the flesh pale and flawless once again. It would take time for Thranduil to regain complete control over his muscles and his joints, and Legolas was certain his father would draw out this time as long as possible, building his own argument against ever leaving the palace again.

 

"Hannon le..." He thanked Gilneth, giving Thranduil's hand another squeeze. He reached out to trail his fingers along the healed flesh. It was difficult to hide his astonishment, even though Legolas had seen the like many times before.

_"How do you feel, Adar?"_ Legolas watched as the healers cleaned up the discarded clothing, dirtied and bloodied and past the point of washing. It would all have to be burned, but there was no shortage of new garments here for the King to wear. Elenwen gathered a soft robe of silver and gold for her King and Legolas took it from her, standing and holding it open to help Thranduil into it. " _Your drinking hand will be out of commission for some time, but worry not, for I am happy to serve you."_ Legolas' tone offered a bit of playfulness to what could have been a dire situation. He was just grateful Thranduil was still alive.

Thranduil stepped into the robe and allowed Legolas to fix the front for him, hoping nobody thought it strange that the Prince was doing a servant's job. As they left the healing chambers he wondered just how Legolas was going to get away with doing things for him.

_"I still have another hand, you know. Nothing can keep me from my wine, not even lack of movement."_

He found it quite endearing just how dedicated Legolas was to him, and decided to play as if he weren't ambidextrous and actually would need Legolas to assist in certain things.

_"I do feel like eating something now, however. Care to feed me?"_

The King smirked as they walked down the hallway, looking at Legolas from the side. How far was his son willing to go in servitude, the complete opposite of his place?

 

Many were waiting around for Thranduil's command and bowed slightly as he passed, keeping with their idle duty of pretending to have something to do when in actuality they did not. Thranduil planned a few things - the first was to eat, and feel like he had something in him to quell the emptiness of his worry, the second was to collapse into bed and sleep until he could get into the swing of daily life the morning after.

 

Legolas gave Thranduil his arm, allowing, nay, demanding that the King lean on him as they walked to that special place in the palace they both found so dear, the balcony that overlooked the trees and blanketed by the sky. He smirked as he kept his eyes on the path before them. " _I wouldn't dare upset Gilneth if he caught you using that arm past its capacity while you healed."_ Legolas knew full well that drinking wine and eating were by no means strenuous, and he knew that Thranduil was fully physically capable, but secretly he delighted doting upon the King. He had no son or bonded partner which he could spend his affections on, so who better yet to spoil than his beloved one?

_"Anything you wish for, meleth nin, it is yours. Even if that means spoon feeding you."_

The table on the balcony was set with a spread of Thranduil's favorite treats, copious amounts of wine, fine cheeses, and other delectables. They were alone for the moment, so Legolas could dote to his heart's content. _"Think of this as a way to make things up to you... All of those times you cared for me. It is the least I can do."_

_"Truly, you are too kind..."_ Thranduil took a seat at his usual place at the table, the balcony to his left and Legolas before him. He gestured for his son to sit, and gently folded both hands in his lap. It was rather curious how eager Legolas seemed to spoil him; in their relationship it had always been the other way around. It was something of a family tradition, for the father to treat the son and never deny him anything. Now, Thranduil felt like a little prince being looked after once more. It was nice, he would admit.

He took a glance in the direction they'd come in, seeing nobody and knowing they would be alone for some time. It was still important for Thranduil and Legolas to keep their little relationship secret - even now, they might appear as lovers. Feeding each other was a romantic sort of thing, though Thranduil could play it off with lack of use for his arm.

_"A little wine, if you may."_ he thought quietly to Legolas, "Only be careful you do not spill it... You shall have to lick me clean if you do."

Legolas smirked, his lips curving up in a playful little smile as his blue eyes glittered in the sunlight. He was glad Thranduil was going to oblige them in their little game, for he knew how deeply the King hated giving up power. It was a strange flip of roles, for Legolas to be the one doting on Thranduil and he was delighted that his father would even so much as humor him for a little while so Legolas could fulfill the role as his father's keeper. There were many times, especially as the years flew past, that Legolas wished his father would treat him more as a lover than his son, though he was grateful he could find both qualities in their relationship. It was not an ideal situation since it was pertinent that their closeness remained secret from all others, but Legolas would steal any moments of complete and utter connection greedily.

He rose to fill Thranduil's glass kneeling before him and pressing it to the King's lips. Legolas' hand was as steady and calm as one's hand could be, so any spillage would be completely deliberate. It allowed the Prince to excel in his marksmanship. " _You are going to milk this one for all it is worth, aren't you? I have a mind to spill this glass over all those lovely robes of yours."_

Legolas recalled their evening in the cave with a shiver. How badly Legolas wished to pour that crimson liquid all over Thranduil's body and clean the Elvenking with his tongue. It would be far too risky here. There were too many elves among them, too many concerned about the well-being of their King... too many servants who would wish to refill the carafes and plates upon the table before them so that their Prince and King could have their fill. No, this time was for teasing, and Legolas recognized it as such. Legolas reached out to gently swipe a rogue droplet from the corner of the King's lips and sucked it between his own fingers, his eyes alight. "3041 of the Second Age. That was a good year. You have a fine taste in wine, Adar."

Thranduil drank while keeping his gaze on Legolas, eyes half lidded and a little dreamy looking.

"Ah, you know my taste for fine things well. Only the most delectable will do... Along with you." He made a cheeky smile and barely resisted poking his tongue out at Legolas, wanting to act at least a bit mature if he was going to let his son serve him. He secretly delighted in this sort of thing - like roleplay it was, intimate and curious but all the same had a purpose and reason.

_"I do wonder how you shall manage to feed me some of that pie.."_ he murmured, gesturing with his nose in the direction of a delicious mix of fruits baked beneath a golden brown crust. _"...without having me nibble at your fingers."_

 

If Legolas wanted to play along with their seduction, Thranduil would only have to increase his own teasing to see how far he could push. The prince was not often a slave to his desires - or at least, in the past he'd been able to control himself for appearances sake. Thranduil absolutely loved to mess with his son and drive him to the point where anything further would result in the clash of lips and grabby hands going god knows where. He tilted his head to the side, allowing the long silken sweep of his hair to pass over his shoulder and almost touch his hands. And Thranduil's eyebrows danced, informing his son that they were just getting started.

Legolas felt his blood begin to stir at that sultry look in the King's eyes, the way those pink lips managed to pout so innocently yet so wickedly. Thranduil was fully aware of what he did to others, though Legolas was not certain his father realized the hold he had on the Prince. In truth, Thranduil had wrapped himself around Legolas' little finger as he had the King's all those years. He reached for a slice of the requested pastry, the flaky crust filled to capacity with sweet ripe berries that had been handpicked at the beginning of fall during the last warm days of summer. He took a small bite for himself, moaning softly in delight at the rush of sweetness and tang upon his tongue. It had felt like forever since he had taste something so reminiscent of the summertime.

_"Then you shall have to watch those teeth, meleth nin... Here, a taste for my King. I just wanted to make sure it was baked to perfection for you."_ And it certainly was. The bakers in the palace were some of the finest in all of Arda, for the Mirkwood royal family had always loved sweet treats such as these. They were baked by the dozens for Thranduil and were never in short supply. Hundreds would be concocted for celebrations, and more varieties than Legolas could come up with in his head, each beautifully and lovingly crafted. Pressing the piece to Thranduil's lips, Legolas took a sip of wine from the King's glass to wash down the pie, one eye always on the door. So blissfully alone. Thank the gods. This would certainly be a sight for any passerby. This was so far from the Prince's duties it was quite ridiculous. But Legolas loved every moment of it... the fear of being caught was always so... exhilarating.

Thranduil's lips parted and his teeth sank into the light crust and lovely warm sweetness of the pie. Ah, how the taste of a good dessert could brighten his spirits and lift him above all bother and concern. Nothing filled his mind now other than the pleasure of what they did together, both in taste and sight. His eyes closed slowly and he exhaled, chewing a little before drawing his gaze to Legolas. Sweets were something of an aphrodisiac for the King, and since he ate them so often it was really no wonder that he was always a little frisky. He would have to control his desire for now, though the sight of Legolas before him was such a delectable, beautiful thing... His hand ached to reach and twine long fingers through soft golden locks, caress the prince's smooth cheeks and draw their faces closer...

 

Thranduil focused on eating for now - no, he would not let himself fall into the endless spiral of attraction he felt for his son. Why, just looking at Legolas and thinking about him could send the King's mind into a land of forbidden fantasy. Many times he'd drowned out the voices of his advisors and council as he sat upon his throne, thoughts turning to the graceful sway of his son's body as he balanced upon a branch or the perfectly rounded shape of his rear... There he went again. His mind really was too out of it at this time to bother with control.

Legolas lovingly fed his father, his eyes drifting over the King's fair form, greedily taking in the sight of the King. Few were lucky enough to share such intimacy with the Elvenking and if Legolas were the type to boast and brag, he would rub it in the face of all who dared court Thranduil. He knew many were lined up in wait for the King's affections, waiting to give themselves to Thranduil, or to even just be touched by him. Waiting to share a bed, a meal, or even a glass of wine. But Legolas could have it all, at any time he chose. He needn't ask, or beg... he could just reach for the King, touch him, whisper into his ear or into his mind, and Thranduil gave himself over.

It took every ounce of strength Legolas had to not grab Thranduil now, shower him in kisses and ravish him senseless. The anticipation could be oh so sweet, and he reached for another treat, this one a flaky chocolate pastry dusted in a light blanket of powdered sugar. He watched as Thranduil wrapped his lips around each morsel and licked his own lips, catching the bit of pie that he missed when he "sampled" his father's treat.

_"Oh how I wish we could be alone... the things I would do to you... for you..."_

"Do tell me, my sweet." whispered Thranduil as he curled his tongue just far enough to lick at Legolas's finger, tasting a light smear of chocolate sauce beneath. His cheeks were tinged pink like a warm sunrise chasing away shadows of the night, face looking less weary and more alive with interest. "What would you offer your King, were both of us in complete privacy...?" he murmured, swallowing thickly with a slight groan. His lips were around Legolas's finger that had lingered nearby for just a second too long, and he sucked at it in such a manner one could just imagine what other things he could do with his mouth.

 

_"You seemed rather enticed by the idea of a little wine spillage... Or perhaps melted chocolate, like this...?"_ Thranduil gazed right then into Legolas's eyes and his own turned a light shade of green, casting an image within his mind available for the prince to see. It was the King himself, vain as ever in an open pose with arms above his head and one leg teasingly crossed over the other. He rested upon shimmering golden sheets, like a delicacy served at a banquet with trails of chocolate swirling all over his body... A few strawberries over his nipples for 'modesty', and an offering of a wine bottle in one hand... Whereas in reality he remained clothed, though that same sultry smirk combined with a smouldering, darker look on his eyes now overtook his face.

_"Oh, I wonder... The things you would do."_

There were few times Thranduil conveyed images to Legolas in their mind and the Prince felt a pang of pleasure shoot straight to his groin at the image. It was as though the King had read his own mind and was able to paint a rather detailed and accurate image from the description that was floating around in Legolas' head. He pressed his finger further past Thranduil's lips, groaning softly as he felt that talented tongue swirl about the long, slender digit, before pulling it out with a wet "popping" sound. Legolas lost himself in those bright green eyes, drowning in the idea of the whole fantasy. He tossed back another gulp of wine, feeling the warmth move through his veins. He needed to relax, for he felt himself getting uptight at the idea that he could not act upon those fantasies at the moment.

_"You tease me horribly... I would devour you whole. The 'dessert' course would be my first meal.... the berries would come off first followed by a chocolate tasting, I believe. And what better than to wash it all down than with a bottle of your finest wine?"_

Legolas' cheeks were flushed red, and the coloring spread down his neck and over his chest, where his flesh peaked out just a bit beneath the collar of his tunic, which he had to loosen. Gods, when did autumn begin to feel so hot? The sun was out in full force, lighting the treetops below but Legolas knew the source of the almost uncomfortable heat was not as result of what was radiating above. It was the sexual god in the chair before him.

_"I would watch your tongue, lest I silence it with my own and act upon that which I desire most."_ Legolas was quickly reaching the point where his self-control was faltering. This was dangerous.

_"I cannot watch my tongue, for it is under my nose_." He smirked with all the sass his lust-clouded mind could manage, wiggling his tongue at Legolas before slowly running it over his lips. The vision in Thranduil's mind parted his legs and trailed a teasing hand down below, gasping and sighing like the wind blowing through the trees. And then it faded, to be replaced by the King's smooth, deep voice.

_"It will take you much to silence my desire, meleth nín. You shall have to stuff something in my mouth so nobody may hear... You know what my pleasure sounds like, do you not?"_

 

There were not many places in the Woodland Realm that were truly private, much less suited for the lovemaking the King and Prince had in mind. The rock-walled caves echoed, wooden doors formed no sound barrier, and at times it seemed only a mouthful of cloth or food could stifle one's moans. Essentially, if ever someone was busy getting it on, any sharp-eared elves nearby would know about it. Usually, it was Thranduil and his suitors. There were always more lined in wait.

 

Tonight however, the Elvenking belonged to his son.

His son who would feed him and look after any of his needs, while trying to keep his own in check. Oh, how Legolas tried. Thranduil could almost taste it.

_"Perhaps a little more wine is needed for both of us to loosen a little... I daresay I have a tightness in my body, though not from stress.."_ One of Thranduil's long legs crossed over the other, and he readjusted his hands in his lap with care.

 

Legolas could hardly take it anymore, the torture was so sweet it was almost painful. He shut his eyes hard, squeezing them tight to cut the image out of his mind, or at least shut it out just long enough to regain control. Legolas was practically shaking now, but when he reopened his eyes his own were of the deepest blue, cloudy pools for Thranduil to drown in. He was biting his lip hard to focus on not throwing Thranduil onto the table and fucking him senseless. He reached for the wine, his hand visibly trembling, and drained the glass. Legolas refilled it and brought it to the King's mouth, tilting it back so Thranduil would have to gulp it down quickly so he didn't spill a drop.

_"Lucky for you, I may have a remedy for that tightness in your body. Here, drink up..."_

The Prince secretly loved when Thranduil crossed his legs as he did now. He oftentimes did it while seated upon his throat. His chin tilted upwards, every hair in place, his crown straight upon his head. Thranduil always had a superior air about him, haughty and slightly arrogant and incredibly sexy. Legolas always watched his mannerisms carefully when they were in the throne room together. He was doing it now, and Legolas imagined him seated atop the King's lap while he was dominated by his father amongst any and all who dared to watch.

" _I can think of a few things to stuff that pretty mouth with, but what shall I fill my own with? I daresay I trust myself to be silent..."_

Thranduil quickly took a large gulp of the wine pressed to his lips, a slight sound of surprise rising from within his throat. He drained the whole glass and felt it go straight to his head in a rush.

"Ooohnn.." he groaned, cheeks flushing bright red as one hand came up to part the high collar of his robes. The weather indeed seemed a little too warm, as if the sun cast down its rays in time with the rising heat in Thranduil's body.

_"Maybe you should occupy.. that mouth of yours... with a little more food for the time being.."_ He was fighting to keep his famed self control, unwilling to let it slip as he'd done so often in the past two weeks. His head held high, Thranduil turned to gaze pointedly into the forest to his left as slender fingers trailed along his thigh... Distracting him, giving him the contact he needed... Even if they were his own. He was not often one to fidget, but when he did it was a smooth and elegant thing barely noticeable unless you looked for it.

_"We cannot do this here.. It is dangerous..."_

Legolas nearly let out an audible groan of frustration at Thranduil's suggestion, undoing a few more laces of his tunic to give himself the ability to breathe. It felt like his throat was tightening, and no matter what physical adjustments he made, he still couldn't get enough air. He reached for a strawberry pastry, piled high with a sweet whipped cream. The berries of the forest had always been his favorite, and as a child Legolas would go off into the forest and pick and eat until his heart's content and his belly felt as though it would burst. He did not even catch that Thranduil had begun to fidget, focusing on his own failing control.

_"It is dangerous no matter where we go... As one who has served your meal so faithfully I assume I should be rewarded in some capacity? Do you intend on paying your dues?"_

Legolas took another swig of wine and felt a rush to his head this time. He moved back to his knees before Thranduil's chair, a hand on his knee to keep from staggering. The mixture of lust, the company, and the wine was intoxicating for one who had so high a tolerance. It was a dangerous and heady combination. Eyes dark with lust gazed up at the King.

_"If you could have me anywhere, damn the consequences, where would you choose?"_ His voice was quiet and breathy, wishing to further the fantasy in his mind since playing it out in reality seemed so far away.

Thranduil could not resist looking into his son's dark, lustful eyes.

"I fully intend on rewarding you... Oh, I would have you high upon my throne... in the center of our realm, you would be bent as you are now and with your sweet lips occupied..." His legs trembled a little, and hoped the fabric of his robes would disguise the slight hardness rising between. "Maybe I would be holding an audience... And you would be hidden beneath one of my thick gowns, the ones you used to think were curtains...." Thranduil had dreamt many times of holding Legolas inside the Royal Snuggie and doing unspeakable things - their bodies hot and needy, pressed against each other and still for secrecy's sake... So vividly could he imagine how that would feel, he was sure the sensation would soon enter his son's mind.

 

"Maybe you would like to be displayed.. Like the shining treasure you are, for all to see and wish they could take your position... You would be mine, entirely.. Mine to hold.. To touch.. To use.. To command..." his inner voice faded to a sigh as he leaned back, hair spilling over the chair he sat in and hands moving ever closer in his lap. Now it looked as if Thranduil was trying to hide something, just a little defensive but increasingly tantalising.

The sexual heat and tension could be cut with a blade between the two elves, and Legolas closed his eyes and pictured the image Thranduil painted behind closed eyelids. It was so vivid and so very real that Legolas could feel the heaviness of silk across his bare flesh, the feeling of the hard muscle covered with soft flesh pressed against his own. The body he knew almost as well as his own. He would run his hand and tongue down that smooth chest, tongue curled over those pert nipples as sweet as berries. Or, perhaps, he would be covered and kneeling between Thranduil's legs, pleasuring him until it was near impossible for the Elvenking to speak coherently whilst holding court.

 

What truly spoke to Legolas now was the idea of being displayed like the King's prize. "I am yours to do that with now..." He reached up to cup the King's cheek, sweeping his thumb slowly over Thranduil's lower lip as he licked his own. His mouth was suddenly dry at the thought. "I would so desire to make your lovers jealous... I would make you mine as your make me yours... I would...." He drifted off, suddenly deep in thought, his imagination taking hold and going wild. Legolas' hands moved down to clasp the King's, smirking softly to himself as he realized what Thranduil was trying to hide.

"I would make it so no one else would have you."

As Thranduil felt his son's hand come to rest upon his own, he ever so slightly slid his own to the side so Legolas could feel his arousal.

_"See what your words do to me... Do you speak of jealousy or desire, I wonder?"_ The thought of having Legolas pleasure him where all could see was intoxicating. That familiar voyeuristic twinge came back to poke at Thranduil's mind, of those watching a display so carnally obscene yet erotic and beautiful without care for secrecy at all. They were so alike, father and son, two creatures of milky white skin and smooth flowing hair. Surely they would look a sculpture created by the gods with their bodies intertwined, one and the same in a coupling fair to see.... Thranduil had to stop thinking like a museum curator putting the treasures of the world up on a pedestal - for his son's hand seemed begging to move - either waiting for the command or its owner to lose control.

_"There are many who would not do well without my affections... Some who would fight you for it."_ Thranduil wanted, so terribly, for Legolas to proclaim their relationship and maybe even bond with him, so no other could lay a hand on the Elvenking. Thranduil personally would now rarely seek his suitors - he would not have to say anything to them to let them know they were unneeded but not unloved. They came and went at his bidding, hopefully going on with their daily lives when not having a bejewelled hand up their anus. Or whatever rough treatment Thranduil delighted in. At the end of a long, stressful day he often liked nothing more than a few sadistic pleasures. He was not, after all, mere gentle whispers and teasing caresses.

_"Still... Oh, Legolas... We cannot do such things.. This must remain.. A.. A secret.. Nnn.."_

Legolas groaned, his hand tightening over the bulge in Thranduil's leggings as his own strained uncomfortably in his own. The King's voice told him to stop, but his body was as eager and willing as Legolas', begging for another stolen touch, a word, a look. While his hand tightened teasingly, he did not move it for he was waiting for Thranduil to cave, or for the King to command him to do so... Whichever came first.

 

Jealousy or desire... Perhaps it was a combination of both that led to complete and utter possession of the other. Eyes flickered almost dangerously in the sunlight. "Does one not beget the other?" Legolas whispered under his breath, his other hand moving up Thranduil's chest so the tips of his fingers could lightly dance along the bared flesh of his throat. The flushed skin was oh so hot to the touch, much like his own. His eyes narrowed at Thranduil's next words, however. "Let them go about their daily lives then... I am certain they have more to do than wait on their King's beck and call when the mood strikes him?" He leaned close to Thranduil's face, close enough that he could felt the hotness of breath on his cheek, watch the way Legolas' eyes swirled like an ocean threatening to drown him. "What can they give you that I can't, meleth nin?"

He couldn't resist any longer and ducked his head in, stealing a kiss from those sweet, trembling lips. Legolas waited a moment for some sort of reprimand. His words had been tinged with jealousy in the heat of the moment, even though Legolas knew full well that it would probably never be so. "It will remain a secret, Adar... Have we not been careful thus far?"

Legolas' hand tightened again. "Imagine if it needn't be a secret anymore."

Thranduil caved. Undone by a simple kiss, he began to drown in the depths of his son's gorgeous blue eyes. He could not tear his own away and suddenly pulled Legolas by the hand closer, allowing for a sharp tug at his arousal and his breath to hitch in his throat. The King had eaten well yet still had room for more, and what better dessert than the powerful sweetness of his son? Their lips met in a hungry clash, Thranduil muffling the deep groan of his voice in the prince's wanting mouth. Their secret would remain, if Legolas had the ability to see the future. Momentarily Thranduil trusted in him and let himself slip over smooth lips and an eager tongue, into an ocean of endless passion.

_"You have given me nearly anything I've sought thus far... Oh, Legolas..."_ his inner voice breathed as Thranduil's hot gasps broke at their parting, only for their lips to be sealed once more "Touch me...."

Gods, it was so dangerous for them to be doing this, up here, out in the open! Anyone with eyes and ears on the lower balconies far beneath them and to the sides would know what was going on - hopefully not becoming too entranced by the sinful sight to tear their eyes away. But Thranduil wished to be watched, oh how he yearned. He was a display of decadence and indulgent desires if there ever was one, everything from greed to lust shown in his erotic movements as he coupled with another. Even now, his back arched and his hips canted forth, inviting his son's warm hand further into his lap. Leggings didn't have a zip or button, they had to be pulled down or fondled through. Thranduil hoped his son would do this right.

Legolas felt Thranduil finally submit to his advances, giving himself more fully to the Prince's desires. One hand was cupping Thranduil's cheek, preventing the King's mouth from straying too far from his own, the other continued to fondle him through the soft fabric of his leggings. They tugged and sought out some way to undo them, and Legolas cursed internally when he realized this would be slightly more difficult than he had previously though. It was then that Legolas was atop Thranduil in the great chair at the head of the table, knees on either side of his hips as his hand carefully, but firmly tugged Thranduil's leggings down just enough to free him to the warm autumn sun and the Prince's greedy fingers.

He ground his own hips against his lover's, his mouth making a fevered trail from Thranduil's ear to his neck, his golden hair a silken curtain around their bodies. _"Then allow me to give me the last things you seek from a lover..."_ Legolas reached down to curl his fingers around the tip of Thranduil's length, tightening rhythmically as he would his own inner muscles had he been seated upon the King.

"Would you have my mouth or my hand?" Legolas' eyes lit up as he pressed his nose against the King's, nibbling at his lips. "Or this...?" He allowed a lock of hair hair to trail between Thranduil's fingers, his lips curled in the most delectable smile. He cared not now if they were seen, if they were heard. Let them watch, and let all them know who Thranduil truly belonged to.

"Aiiii..." Thranduil groaned at the feeling of his son's hand upon his length, clenching so deliciously he honestly wished for another dick to receive all the sensations at once. "I.. I want your mouth.." he panted hotly against those sweet lips, dragging his teeth along the bottom and taking his left hand to grab Legolas's hair "And your hair across my legs... How I wish we could both be undressed at this moment..."

 

With a gasp he quickly pressed his lips firmly to the Prince's, stifling the volume of his own voice. He could be the most grand and majestic lover in Arda at times, but still tried to keep hold of some degree of secrecy. The threat of being discovered and outcast was omnipresent - then again, the King's mind did tend to overdramatise things a fair bit. He tugged at Legolas's hair, stroking and raking fingers through until his fingers clawed at his son's skin.

Legolas hissed softly as he felt Thranduil's nails cut into his skin, but delighted in the pleasure resonating from the pain. Pain, pleasure, what difference did it really make? Legolas could find pleasure in the pain, and at his father's hand, it made it even more intoxicating. His head was swimming as he moved down between Thranduil legs, the tips of his hair trailing over the King's thighs. He wasted no time in worshiping his lover with his tongue. If there was anything that was comparable to Legolas' skill with the bow, it was his mouth.

 

Running the flat of his tongue up the King's length, Legolas' fingers trailed lightly between his thighs as he ground his own hips against Thranduil's shin, greedily taking his own pleasure as he gave it to the one most worthy. Oh, how he wished the could both be completely undressed at the moment as well, but it was far too risky. The chance of being discovered was already far too great as it was, but it just added to the excitement of the entire situation. Legolas had some very strong voyeuristic tendencies, likely passed down from his father, and he found that he deeply wished to make Thranduil scream his name so he was not mistaken for another lover. For now, however, a few moans of passion and lustful ardor would have to suffice.

Thranduil cried out at the feeling of Legolas's tongue and bucked his hips forth, naturally trying to clasp a hand to his mouth to muffle his voice but finding his right arm flopping over his leg and resting a heavy hand on the Prince's shoulder. "Ahhhhhnnnn...." he groaned, feeling completely overtaken by the loss of control. Nothing held him but pleasure in its turbulent depths, with foaming waves breaking the barrier of his self restraint.

 

He could feel Legolas grinding up against him down below, and was suddenly struck by the urge to give him something firm to frot against. The King's boot pressed into Legolas's crotch, almost pushing him away but providing an act of domination Legolas could choose to pleasure himself with or not. Hell, he didn't mind if his son wanted to hump his leg like a dog in heat - they both needed this, and were soon too far gone to care for appearances.

Legolas took Thranduil deep in his throat, fingertips digging into Thranduil's thighs as he focused on relaxing those muscles so he didn't choke. It was hard enough to breathe, let alone ensure he didn't kill himself in the process of bringing his lover to the pinnacle of pleasure. He gasped softly around him as he felt the toe of Thranduil's boot press into his crotch. It was a display of dominance and Legolas delighted in it. He loved that the King understood this game well and continued to humor him. He could play Legolas like the finest instrument. It was so easy, and he was so transparent but didn't give a damn. Only Thranduil saw him like this, his basest and most wanton desires.

He undulated his hips against Thranduil's booted foot at his own pace, pressing back against him with an equal force. Very few knew that the gentle Prince could turn into a beast of sadistic and sordid fantasies at the drop of a hat. And few would ever learn it. Legolas' eyes were dark as night now, and they did not leave Thranduil's face, shamelessly drinking in his prize and relishing this carnal control. Tightening his lips around the King, Legolas' through reverberated in a low hum.

_"Let me taste you, melethron... I imagine you are sweeter when you give yourself over fully as you are now. Powerless to anything save the pleasure you are allowed to feel in this very moment."_

Thranduil was completely engulfed in the slick, wet heat of his son's throat and moaned into the air as if struck by a spear up the ass. His lap was piled with Legolas's hair and the sight of the Prince down there was such an irresistible sight.

"Oh, you want to taste me?" he hummed, twisting his foot to the side a little where it pressed into Legolas's crotch "Mm, be patient..."

 

As always, Thranduil wished to draw out the buildup of his pleasure for as long as possible and slowly pushed in and out of Legolas's mouth, making sure his son could breathe. He tried to control his motions but soon began thrusting erratically, gasping and sighing like the wind.

Legolas groaned as the foot on his groin twisted and teased mercilessly, in rhythm with the thrusting of Thranduil's hips into his mouth. His back was arched, each nerve ending on fire and each muscle tight and tense. He could feel that the end was near and it wasn't long before Legolas lost control and spilled himself across his boot, detailing the supple leather with his own pearly design. He cried out around Thranduil and shuddered against him.

He reached for Thranduil's hips now, holding on for dear life as he kept pace with the erratic thrusts, his head bobbing up and down with the motion as his face was completely concealed by his golden hair.

 

_"Patience is a virtue... that I am not so interested in exploring at the moment. Please, Adar... I hunger for you..."_

The feeling of Legolas's mouth shuddering with the cry from within offered just the extra sensuality Thranduil needed to release himself, a deep growl tearing past his lips. They hadn't been noticed, and were both granted the feeling of safe bliss for a short time without worry for interruption. The King's mind felt clear and calm, his son's lips always knew how to make him forget the world and sink into the depths of all-consuming pleasure.

 

When he was able to see properly through the hazy feelings, Thranduil glanced down to see his boot stained with white.

"Oh, are you going to clean that…?" he asked lowly, running a hand back through his son's hair and tilting Legolas's head up to look at him.

Legolas was eager to show Thranduil just how far he was willing to go to please him. He wiped the corners of his mouth delicately with his fingers, prim and proper like a royal Elf of his status would after consuming a sweet treat. _"I wouldn't leave you messier than you started..."_ He smiled deviantly as he jerked his head away from Thranduil's bejeweled hand gently, on hands and knees like some sort of lithe golden animal. He ran his tongue over the toe of the King's boot, shivering at the depravity of it all, tasting the musk of leather mixed with the saltiness of his own seed. Legolas made certain he cleaned it thoroughly until the boot shone before he sat up, grinning at the King with a wildness in his eyes.

_"That would be a question that I am certain you would not wish to explain."_

"Indeed..." Thranduil made a show of inspecting his boot, and was pleased to find it was as clean as anything could be after being licked by Legolas.

 

"Tell me, meleth nín. Are you satisfied with your reward?" His hand waved calmly upwards in a gesture for his son to rise, and with it his head tilted up until he was gazing at Legolas with an air of superiority. "You make quite the excellent obedient servant, I must admit."

Thranduil never thought he'd ever be able to get his son to kneel to his feet and lick his boots, the thought being a far fetched fantasy he could only play out with his willing suitors. Legolas never ceased to surprise his father - he really was more versatile than the King imagined.

Legolas rose and straightened his own tunic, pulling his legs over his hips and smoothing out his hair. He removed a tangled braid from his temple, unwinding it with deft fingers before redoing it nearly twice as fast. "I could not have requested a better reward, Sire..." Legolas murmured, eyes twinkling as he bowed deeply.

 

Their game was over for now, though the Prince was more than impressed that he managed to draw it out for as long as he could. The idea of a collar came to mind and a chain at Thranduil's approval of his simulated servitude. Before he allowed himself to get lost in fantasy once again Legolas heard music rise up from below their balcony, chatter and laughter sweeping throughout the trees below. The Prince cocked an eyebrow at this and looked at the King. "Is it my birthday already? Oh, Adar, you shouldn't have..."

Thranduil looked over the balcony and a soft smile came to his face.

"It seems preparations are underway for celebrating our return, iôn nín. If you think you can drink any more and have the energy to participate, we can go."

 

Mirkwood's feasts were wild parties with everything from exotic wines to erotic dances, often lasting for days as sleepless elves rejoiced in whatever had happened that warranted a celebration. Currently it was the King and Prince's return - the Silvan didn't even need a second before deciding "Yep, it's time to go wild."

 

Since there were many days one could attend, Thranduil figured he would have some time for a short rest before going and getting so wasted he could barely move. These events were where he found new suitors, though he knew Legolas probably would keep an eye on him for whatever reason. His son was so protective and that dangerous spark of jealousy was something to keep a look out for.

Legolas offered his arm to Thranduil, smiling. "I am always ready for a party, Adar... but you look as though _you_ could use a rest. Maybe you are getting too old for these festivities?" He grinned, poking fun at the Elvenking's age. Legolas was no spring chicken himself but he would use any means necessary to egg the King into joining a good celebration with him.

 

"Allow me to guide you back to your chambers so that you might rest and clean up. I will change and make my way down there to represent the two of us. You can join whenever your tired bones see fit." Legolas could drink, dance, and party better than most Elves in Mirkwood. He always greatly enjoyed the festivities his people would host. "Don't worry... I won't drink too much without you."

Thranduil shot a piercing glare to his son, not appreciating the jokes about his age in the slightest. But he knew Legolas wasn't trying to anger him, and so kept his heated pride from retaliating with sharp words.

 

"Of course." he replied simply, and fixed his leggings before he flounced off towards his chambers. Ah, Legolas thought he was the wildest party animal in the entire realm. He had clearly never seen Thranduil in the latter days of festivities, high Mithril stiletto heels and silver maxi dress with all care thrown to the wind. The King was somewhat glad for that; had Legolas observed how Thranduil got when drunk on certain types of wine he would have disowned him from sheer embarrassment.

 

Thranduil was gone in an instant and didn't bother to change as he flopped down on his bed, closing his eyes. Sleep would come soon, as his body needed to complete the healing process.

Legolas watched Thranduil leave and went back to his own desolate chambers to clean up and change. His desk was beginning to collect dust and he absentmindedly scrolled some words in Elvish upon it before erasing it with his hand. He sighed. The sheets on his bed were made, crisp, smooth, and without a wrinkle in sight. He changed out of his tunic and leggings, still dirtied and bloodied from their journey for a robe of fine silk the color of a cloudless blue sky. He wore his hair down, much like his father often did and placed upon his head his mithril circlet of fashioned ivy leaves and vines. Thranduil often favored a crown of great height consisting of various leaves, berries, and branches depending on the season. Feeling slightly stiff in his robes, for Legolas had always preferred the freedom a simple tunic and leggings gave him, the Prince plopped himself down on his bed and laid back on the blankets, staring up through the opening in his ceiling that gave way to branches framing a beautiful autumn sky.

 

He laid there for a moment, taking in the events that transpired over the past week as he closed his eyes. Legolas imagined each touch and word his father had given him and treasured them deeply in his heart, as he did all of their moments. The positive ones at least. They had had their fair share of disagreements, some incredibly heated, in the past. Legolas would not change it for the world, however, because it shaped what their relationship into what it was, molded it, and made it unique to them. He heard the drums and flutes echo louder down the hall and sat up, not wanting to miss the festivities. Legolas glanced back at the newly created wrinkles on the bed, satisfied that his sheets did get some decent use this night, and said farewell to his chambers for the next time he decided to set foot in them.

 

The Silvan Elves in Mirkwood certainly knew how to throw a party. Lasting for days, they would extend throughout the palace and well into the forest, allowing Elves to come and go as they pleased. There would be endless wine, treats, dancing, and music, and the feeling of celebration and delight was heavy in the air, and something Legolas so desperately needed. It had been forever since he had celebrated thus. He could forget all of their troubles for a day or two before returning back to reality, with that reality being trying to convince an incredibly hung-over Thranduil that they needed to get back on the road with an army to fight alongside Imladris.

 


	10. 3-2 : Return to Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties in the Woodland Realm are amazing and sensual experiences in which anyone can do anything - drink, dance, fuck with royalty. Smut and drama is here - ten thousand words of it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two parallel smut scenes here, separated by ~~ marks. It is switching from Thranduil's experience to Legolas's with their various OC partners. It's just a little bit of fun for tonight. Nothing serious, believe me.

The great hall was filled with Elves and Legolas squeezed through them. He did not go unnoticed however, and many raised their glasses to him as he passed. The War of the Ring was over, and he was considered a savior. Legolas didn't have the heart to tell them that there was another darkness on the horizon. For now he had a full glass in hand, smiled, and laughed with the rest of them. Somehow, Thranduil always knew where to find him, so Legolas did not mind getting lost in the crowd. He took a seat amongst his people, watching two Elves dance with flaming torches the color of their hair. He drained his glass and it was immediately replaced by another. It did not take long for the Prince to feel the urge to dance. Legolas did not dance often, but when he did he had a warrior's fighting grace.

 

Legolas would have a line of Elves waiting their turn to clasp hands with the Prince and try to keep to the rhythm of lute and drums. It took a special elf with great endurance and quick feet to keep up with him.

 

It was a long six hours of rest Thranduil took until he was refreshed and ready to party. Somehow he had more energy for partying than he did anything else - traveling took the spirit out of him over many days but when surrounded by fine wine, delicious food and endless merriment he felt he could go for weeks without rest.

 

He rose from bed with a determination to prove himself to Legolas - that he wasn't too old for this (though was getting there) and could handle as much wild activity anyone could throw at him. Thranduil's wardrobe welcomed him with many things to choose from, and of course it took him half an hour to find something he liked. He chose flowing robes of red and silver, with cape-like drapery to his ankles that nobody could step on by mistake and an open collar studded with sparkling diamonds. A few rings and one extravagant crown of white crystal twined with autumn leaves later - the King was ready to hit the dance floor.

 

He strode into the crowd which had been going strong for hours yet - to the sound of raucous cheers and even a few catcalls. Someone immediately handed him a glass of wine and Thranduil grinned - he'd missed this, and was looking forward to spending the nights amongst his people.

 

Thranduil wandered about with hips naturally swaying to the music and hair trailing behind him, looking every bit the King of the Party with an eye-catching dazzle to every movement. He caught the eye of someone gazing at him and blew them a kiss, only to see them pass out with an instant blush seconds later. He downed his glass of wine, and sought to remove any inhibition he may have had. It just wouldn't do if he was remotely sober in the slightest here! And Legolas, perhaps Thranduil would catch his son doing something embarrassing as people were prone to do during this type of event. He scanned around for the Prince, expecting Legolas to find him first.

 

Legolas was on his tenth or fifteenth glass of wine at least, as he had lost count long ago. The Prince was still relatively sober save for his vision going blurry every few minutes. He demanded his half empty glass be filled to the brim and currently had half a dozen dances under his belt. He refused the next elf however, for he wondered where Thranduil had gotten off to. The party, filled with nearly every soul in Mirkwood, seemed incomplete without the King. When a number of heads in the crowd turned, a few gasps heard and a few dull 'thuds' of elves hitting the floor, Legolas rolled his eyes and knew exactly what that meant. Thranduil was near.

 

The Prince pushed himself out of his seat, surrounded by one too many elves attempting to feed him various fruits and sweet pastries, and sauntered over to find the King. When Legolas started to drink a lot... he could become quite loud and a little raucous. He started to throw inhibitions to the wind and it became very, very noticeable at a certain point.

 

"ADAR!" Legolas belted, causing one or two heads to turn. His voice was loud, even amongst the musicians in the crowd. He smirked at the King and practically sashayed towards him "Where have you been? You've practically missed the entire evening."

He waved a nearby elf over to fill the King's glass. "You have some catching up to do."

"The only catching I'll do here is of you." Thranduil smiled and wrapped an arm around Legolas's waist, leaning in close. "I took your advice, you know. Slept a little. Drank not enough." At that he gulped what was in his just-refilled glass and held it out for some more, always eager for more fruity sweetness and strong alcohol. He'd pressed himself rather close and wondered truly how tipsy Legolas was - for the Prince had inherited his father's tolerance and could go for many hours of nonstop drinking until he collapsed.

 

"I knew I should've gotten here earlier." the King pointed with a long, silver-tipped finger (he always had someone willing to paint his nails and make him look fancier) to a random elf dressed in all red with long brown hair. "See that guy? He tried to propose to me." Thranduil of course hadn't given the elf a second glance, had he done so he would've realised it was Elros, Galion's wingman. They always tried to woo their King with as much subtle tact as two drunk elves could, but never in a few millennia had they gotten lucky. As Legolas and Thranduil walked a little they got quite a few stares, looking quite the couple almost hanging off each other.

Legolas cocked an eyebrow, leaning on the King, one arm slung over his shoulders. As they walked Legolas was starting to hope they would not walk too far, as he was starting to have to focus on which foot he needed to put in front of the other. His cheeks were starting to flush but he demanded his glass be refilled once again, and it was done so quite quickly, even as they walked. He nursed it quietly for a moment, thinking nothing of their closeness and ignoring the stares. His eyes narrowed as they honed in on the Elf Thranduil was pointing at. "Elros?" Legolas began to erupt in giggles, shaking his head. "I daresay you would have made lovely children..." He teased.

 

He leaned in close to Thranduil's ear, the wine starting to take hold as he pointed to a group of silver-haired musicians on a platform nearby. "You know what they say about musicians?" Legolas grinned, forgetting the rest of the joke promptly. "I fucked all of them once... same time." He frowned slightly, brows furrowing. "I think it was them, at least." Legolas dribbled a bit of wine from his own glass into the king's.

Thranduil snickered at his son's comments, thinking he probably didn't even know what he was saying. However the thought of Legolas in a more-than-threesome was quite enticing, and as he drank from his nearly overflowing wine glass (it always refilled itself when he wasn't looking…) he whispered into the Prince's ear.

 

"Oh, I bet you would have let everyone have a piece of you… not leaving any for me?"

 

He could feel a pleasant buzz spreading throughout his body as he continued to drink, and by the time Thranduil was up to his ninth glass he thought it was a good idea to stop walking, for Legolas's sake. They stopped near a table piled high with food, and Thranduil picked at his favourite food the moment he saw it - honey pastries. Nibbling at it thoughtfully he gazed around at the faces nearby - everyone was thoroughly enjoying themselves, and he noted with a secret glee that some people were even getting it on in a not-so-subtle manner. Nobody would notice if he pulled a few sneaky moves here and there… and sneakiest of all, he took a firm handful of Legolas's ass and squeezed it before moving his hand away as if nothing had ever happened.

"I am certain there are more than enough to go around..." Legolas chuckled, giving Thranduil a sidelong glance. "Though I daresay anyone would mind if you partook with me. Things get rather... mixed up in the heat of the moment."

 

Legolas glared at the King as he grabbed at his rear and made to swat his hand away when the light and playful tune of wind and string instruments hit his ears. He reached for a small berry tart and grinned at his father. "I would ask you to dance but I fear I would make a fool out of myself at this very moment. Perhaps I need a few more glasses..." Or a few less. Legolas wasn't really certain at this point.

 

Around them elves were in various stages of merrymaking, playful glances, stolen touches, passionate words in dark corners, or, for those who were a little more adventurous and uninhibited, displaying their bodies and their lovemaking for all to see on the various chairs and chaises that were spread throughout the halls of Thranduil's palace for that very purpose. Or, of course, just to rest innocently between dances or the like. As the evening went on, the halls darkened naturally and thousands of glittering amber lights took the place of the sun. The music would slow to a sensual beat and just outside the palace, and into the woods as far as the eye could see, fireflies would gleam likes millions of tiny stars. Legolas would always begin in the palace and make his way to the outdoors, for his heart truly lie with nature. And this was it in its finest form.

 

Legolas tugged at the neck of his robes and snorted. "These are far too constricting to dance in anyways."

"Perhaps you should have worn something a little lighter.." Thranduil purred, placing a gentle hand to Legolas's collar and opening the top clasp. His fingers dipped in and drew circles on prominent collarbones, before venturing to boop the Prince on his nose.

"I think you've had a little too much to drink if you plan on dancing. Come, let us venture outside for a while." Thranduil motioned to an archway from the wide hall they stood in, leading down a sloping, airy corridor lined with branches as columns and reaching to the ground.

 

There were many open, enchanted gardens in the Woodland Realm, protected areas of the forest that had not once been touched by the darkness of Mirkwood. These were places of memory and peace, of joyful times and bright flowers. Thranduil had one of these gardens for himself, but it was off-limits for tonight. He sought to lead his son down into where lush dark green grass carpeted the ground, silvery white flowers swayed in the light evening breeze and many elves danced about like willowy creatures of the night.

Legolas could feel the heated, jealous stairs as Thranduil touched his collarbone teasingly beneath his robes. It would have drawn more suspicion as the King and Prince were close now, hanging on each other as a pair of lovers might after a night of raucous partying, but Thranduil managed to stave off any additional curiosity and question with the final playful 'boop' on his nose. It was clear that they both had quite a bit to drink. On top of it all, Thranduil and Legolas had always been incredibly close. The sweet intoxication of an alcoholic beverage just lowered the bar a little more, along with the standards of propriety their people held them too. Tonight, just about anything and everything went.

He allowed Thranduil to lead him out into the night air by the hand. The clear, cool evening air helped to clear his wine-laden senses and as they walked, Legolas leaned on the King for a moment to remove his boots, wishing to feel the softness of the grass beneath his feet. The scent of earth and flowers were strong here, the rich scent of life and wood that was the essence of comfort for every Elf. He bent to pick a small, silvery flower from the path ahead and carefully tucked it behind Thranduil's ear, his eyes dancing with mirth and the flickering lights of the fireflies that dotted the trees and bushes. "There. Lovely. A flower fit for a King. Do you remember when I would lead you out here when I was young?" Legolas felt the urge to describe nearly every flower he saw, because in his eyes, they were all different and surely Thranduil would find all those small differences incredibly interesting. They were often alone, and Legolas loved the way his voice would echo throughout the forest here as he told his stories to the King. It made him feel so much bigger when he was so small.

Thranduil smiled gently as he felt the flower tucked behind his ear, memories flooding back of the time he'd spent with his son. When Mirkwood had been green and all was safe, their entire kingdom had been a sanctuary like this. The soft lights danced before his eyes and flowers like millions of stars were upon the ground as he looked. Above, real stars shone down and Thranduil recalled when Legolas had been young and infatuated with the stars (as those who lived in the woods were likely to be) Thranduil had taught him about constellations, which Valar looked like which star cluster and what the arrangements could bring to one's imagination with the telling of a good story.

 

"I remember." he replied quietly, also removing his shoes and sighing in bliss at the utter relaxation he felt spreading through his body. "We would tell each other tales, inspired by the beauty we see before us..." His hand was around his son's waist now and he held Legolas close, the fresh evening air of Mirkwood mingling with the delectable scent beside him. "Those were wonderful days..."

 

Thranduil recalled many things about these gardens and their paths into the forest. He remembered the time after his wedding, where he and his wife had waltzed together under the stars in each other's arms without a care in the world. They had stood like he and Legolas stood now, so close and peaceful. Thranduil sipped a little more of his wine, and blinked softly. Memories weren't what he wanted to live this night, as he often did at the sight of the stars. He knew his time in Middle-Earth was running out. The King wanted to live in the present.

Legolas sighed peacefully, one hand around Thranduil's waist and the other holding his glass of wine which he sipped quietly. The music was playing a little softer now and the beating of the drums reverberated throughout the trees. He sensed a melancholy air about the King, and, knowing his father would get wrapped up in old memories, better times, sometimes sad times, and it was difficult to come away from those feelings and relived emotions with a clear heart. Tonight was a night for new memories, for joy, and for peace while they still had it.

 

He reached down to take Thranduil's hand then, and tugged him deeper into the woods. There was always a drum circle at each celebration in this portion, and Elves at different states of dress and undress would move to an intoxicating beat here. There were gleeful tunes and slower, more suggestive ones played for those who were at that point in the night where they would find a lover and take them to bed. Legolas had recalled more than one occasion when he had taken several of his own, and imagined his father had taken dozens more. All were uninhibited by food and drink, and not even the King was off-limits. In fact, they would often come to Thranduil in flocks.

 

"I think I may be able to trust my feet again. That, or make a fool of myself. I am certain there would be many an Elf who would like to see the King dance." He smirked. "Though I would like to fancy myself a better dancer of the two of us."

"Was that a challenge, meleth nín?" Thranduil leaned close to Legolas with an eyebrow quirked up, wondering if his son really thought he could dance better than the Party King himself. "I shall take your hand and show you my masterful dance moves." He had finished his wine by now, and even when drunk he could move like water weeds swimming beneath a lake, graceful and gentle with a mesmerising flow.

 

With the Prince by his hip and glass handed to someone nearby, Thranduil drew close to the circle of dancing elves and thrumming beats, feeling the music and atmosphere envelope him until it became all he could think of. Soon even his mind didn't bother with coherent thought and he let his body sway to the slow, almost sensual tunes as if performing a mating dance for Legolas. A few elves were drawn to him and he was pulled into their group, reaching for Legolas teasingly as if daring him to come after.

And come after Thranduil he did. Legolas allowed himself to be pulled in by the hands of a few Elves he had never even seen before, draining the rest of his glass and tossing the empty goblet into the grass at the side of the circle. If there was anyway to lose oneself in the moment, it would be through the bewitching melody played by a few musicians nearby in the almost erotic sway of his kin that threatened to consume him. And consume him it did, for Legolas abandoned all cares and threw his hands to the sky, hips swaying and golden locks swirling. What little light they did have reflected off of his hair like the rays of the sun. He trusted his feet and his body, separating his wine-hazed mind from his arms and legs.

 

He pressed up against the raven-haired Elf closest to him, gently grabbing his hips and moving rhythmically with him, though his eyes were on the King. Though, in this small mass of Elves who could truly tell who was dancing with who? Thranduil certainly knew how to move his body, graceful, elegant and sensual as Legolas always knew he was. He moved like a god. Another Elf near Thranduil ran his hands down the King's back in a request for his own dance amongst the others.

Thranduil felt those hands by his back and turned in a swift movement, the elf behind him ducking before he got hit by a thick mass of silver hair. He knew not all his subjects off by heart, and this particular ellon was one he hadn't seen before. Still, he smiled like a seductive predator and saw lust in those night grey eyes, darkening with every second the King held contact.

 

Thranduil was fully aware Legolas was looking at him, and felt a thrill rush to his head at the thoughts of what he could do. Ah, there was truly never enough sensuality in his life. He sought to tease, body moving in close ripples just without touching the one before him and slinking about before he could be grabbed. Thranduil lead their dance quite well, and offered his partner a chance as he brought both hands lower to slide down the elf's slim waist.

Legolas did become quite aware of what Thranduil was doing and his own eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. Here would be no place to cause as scene, and if he decided to take a lover here and now on the grass in the middle of this circle the King would allow it. He was no true owner of the King, even though he often liked to imagine himself as such. The ellon who requested the dance looked to be Legolas' age, with striking grey eyes and steely grey hair to match, an unusual coloring for an elf even of the Woodland realm. The young elf could certainly move, though it was clear what he desired from the King this night. It was what many desired after a night of feast, wine, and dance.

 

Licking his own suddenly dry lips he turned to his own partner, slightly less subtle in his seductions as he twirled him about before him before bringing him close against his chest, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. The elf's cheeks were nearly as dark a red as the wine that kept flowing, and Legolas had no earthly idea if he had ever seen him before and did not care to even ask his name. _Two can play this game_ , Legolas thought to himself.

 

Thranduil's partner ran his hands slowly from the King's waist to his chest, before they rested on the other's broad shoulders, leaning in to whisper something naughty into his ear that the Prince strained to hear. Even his impeccably sharp hearing could not catch each word above the drums, though Legolas was certain he heard something about "alone" and something about a lake somewhere.

Thranduil smirked at his partner, finding the thought of escape and a sneaky privacy a wonderful addition to his night. Names and statuses mattered not here, though Thranduil was sure this elf would be beaming and boasting pridefully the next day at having been able to get some with the King. If he could remember.

In agreement Thranduil whispered into a sharply pointed ear, teeth ghosting over the shell and breath deliciously warm. His partner seemed excited, and they made their way to slip from the crowd and saunter off into the woods.

 

Meanwhile Legolas's companion could see the Prince was a little disctracted, and gently pressed his hips up in an attempt for some contact. His face turned skyward and he found himself gazing at Legolas, marvelling in the almost holy beauty of the Sinda lord before him.

Legolas watched Thranduil slip away with his new lover for the evening and swallowed a lump of jealousy in his throat, brought back to reality by his own dancing partner, who he had promptly forgotten about. He smiled down at the adoring eyes of the lovely elf before him. He would enjoy this night like no other, and would make it a night for his companion to remember. He twined his hand through the elf's dark hair, tilting his head to the side gently, as if observing him carefully. And he was, of course, for the Prince was rather selective of his lovers. He wanted them to look as unlike Thranduil as possible. This particularly delectable Elf certainly fit the bill.

 

Thranduil's companion moved effortlessly through the night, further away from the drums and merriment. He could not believe his own luck, for he had attempted to get the attention of the Sindar Elvenking for many celebrations prior. He grabbed at him and stole kisses in the dark, leading him down to a quiet stream that opened up into a shallow lake.

Thranduil's movements slowed as he and his partner came to a still near the lake, the music a distant echo through the trees and quietly flowing stream close by something the King found quite relaxing. He felt free and lightheaded, as he often did at these types of celebrations. The grass beneath his feet was slightly damp and fragrant, trees above swaying as if copying Thranduil's former dance. Gently he pushed his fingers up through his partner's hair, taking a warm handful of silky grey he found quite admirable. This elf had beautifully long hair he obviously took good care of, and Thranduil silently admitted it turned him on. His long fingers delicately massaged and felt the many strands caressing his hand, sleeve falling a little so he could have just a bit more contact against his skin. And he dipped his head in for a kiss, eyes a smouldering dark blue yet with a slightly cloudy haze.

~~

Legolas's partner was revelling in the Prince's attention, and sighed at the feeling of warm fingers in his hair. He managed to look into Legolas's eyes and smile warmly, trying to quell his own desire which threatened to jump out of his leggings. Desire was what he was known for after all, being named Rhonir, the "wild and untamed young man". He wanted to be careful here however, as a coupling with the Prince of the Woodland Realm was something he was intent to not screw up. He was half drunk out of his mind, but still managed to articulate what he wanted to say.

"You're... beautiful..." he slurred, a woozy grin painted across his face. "Will you have me tonight?"

Legolas gazed into Rhonir's sparkling eyes, relishing the adoration he was being shown by an elf he had never met. It was clear that although the other appeared to be even more drunk than Legolas was, based on his slurred speech. He practically leered down at his newfound prey. "Oh, my dear, I shall have you. It would be a shame, however, if you did not remember a single moment of our evening together." He ran his thumb over Rhonir's full lips and pressed himself closer. "We shall have to ensure you do not forget. Shall I have you in the middle of this circle then? On the grass right here while the others watch?" Legolas pressed his lips against Rhonir's ear and breathed into it softly, his breath hot as he spoke throatily. "Or would you prefer privacy?"

~~

Bregolien was the name of the grey-haired elf in Thranduil's arms. He was not of a noble status but was a well respected dancer who often seduced others with a shake of his hips and twirl of his hair that fell to his hips. His pointed ears were pierced up the length of the delicately curved shell, studded with silver bells and rings that jingled musically as he moved his head. He was of a more exotic nature than many of the Silvan elves that inhabited the Woodland Realm and in fact was no Silvan at all. He considered himself somewhat of a gypsy, having wandered into Mirkwood several centuries prior with a small band of Elves that had been uprooted from their home just outside of Imladris. For now, Mirkwood had remained the place he currently called home and he eagerly attended each celebration and party hosted by Thranduil's people, looking for a chance in bed with one of the royal family but settling for a number of the King's guards who came to him very willingly when he beckoned them.

He was known to be quite forward with his lovers, and he slowly began to remove his own tunics, one of thin grey silk as he met Thranduil's lips hungrily. Bregolien whispered against the King's lips, his eyes practically glowing in the dim light from the moon. "You may not remember me, my King, but I certainly could not forget you. I have sought you out for many years... Tonight appears to be my lucky night, if I am to play my cards right."

"You have played them well so far.." Thranduil purred, running his hands down Bregolien's fine, exposed body. With one hand he traced the soft roundness by the elf's backside, the other undoing his own robes. Not once did his eyes leave the deep grey before him, even at the nearby sparkle of many piercings shining past Bregolien's hair.

"What an interesting creature you are..." he whispered as a finger tweaked the elf's curvy pointed ear, a slight jingling sound from the jewellery that adorned it ringing quietly. "I would much like to explore the rest of you tonight." In one sleek movement he drew back and cast his robes off, only his leggings and crystalline crown remaining. With one finger, the King gestured for his partner to come closer.

~~

Rhonir was practically melting in Legolas's hands, feeling so hot and a bit sticky with the sultry words and dark gaze. "Privacy..." he whispered, pressing his face into the Prince's neck. "I want you... All of you.. Alone.."

His hands were tugging at Legolas's clothes, but were uncoordinated to the point where he was essentially batting at the Prince like a kitten. Memories from a second ago lingered at his lips, and he hoped with all the coherency in his mind that he would never forget this night.

Bregolien had only heard stories about Thranduil's prowess in the bedroom. His lips were curled up into what seemed to be a permanent smile plastered on his face as he watched the King eagerly. Within a glorious instant, Thranduil's magnificent robes lay in a puddle of silken fabric in the grass and his alabaster flesh seemed to glow in the night. Bregolien came forward eagerly as he was beckoned, removing his own tunic and casting it to his feet as he reached up to lightly toy with the crown upon Thranduil's head, drawn to beautiful sparkling things such as this. For a gypsy Bregolien could be rather superficial, choosing only the most beautiful of his lovers and the most wealthy if that was even on the table. Now, it had appeared that he had found both in this one tonight.

He gave not a name, as it was often not customary to do so on evenings such as this. Status and names would be forgotten by the time the next sun rose and Bregolien would be on the search again for a new lover. He gazed up at Thranduil, his eyes dark as he took in the King's full beauty. "It is a wonder we do not worship you openly as a God." He murmured in wonderment.

"Some actually do.." said Thranduil quietly, smirking at the thought of those in his realm who had a little cult based around their King. "You may do so if you desire."

He took Bregolien into his arms and held him tight, suddenly attacking with lips sucking the younger elf's neck. A mark was formed there, and Thranduil's silent gaze said that Bregolien belonged to the King for this night. He loved to own people and have them submit to him, and relished how the one before him was entranced by his beauty. It sent a surge of pleasure straight to his groin, which he pressed against the dancer's slim figure in a close, hot push. How he loved when people admired him! Thranduil couldn't help but take more contact between them, chests pressed together and flushed skin prickling with excitement.

Bregolien smiled wickedly against the King's lips, his tongue reaching out to meet with Thranduil's own as their mouths battled and danced together. He was sweet and tasted of wine and something else unique that the grey-haired elf could not place. Slender hands swept over the King's chest, feeling gooseflesh beneath his fingertips as he felt himself shiver. Skillful hands reached down to teasingly sweep just beneath the waistband of Thranduil's leggings, practically climbing the taller elf at this point.

"Then you shall be my god tonight, Sire..."

 

\--

 

Legolas felt Rhonir's hands practically clawing at his robes and he purred as he took both of the Elf's hands in his own, squeezing them as he guided the other elf away from the crowd. Peppered throughout the forest were small, comfortable canvas tents constructed for the purpose of this celebration alone. Each was large enough to hold several elves, furnished only with many soft pillows on the floor and soft sheets and bedding for those who wished to sleep or couple during the festivities. The ones that were currently occupied were obvious, but Legolas easily found one a little further away from the path that was not in use.

 

Gently pushing Rhonir in the tent, Legolas followed in after him, shrugging off his robes. "Then you are the only one who shall have me this night." Perhaps it was true, perhaps not. He would not want his lover to feel neglected if he sought someone afterwards. He would make sure Rhonir was fully sated and perhaps even asleep, if he was lucky, before he exited the small tent and left him alone. For the last several centuries Legolas found that he did not wish to be in the arms of another after coupling. It was too intimate for Legolas and he never found that he felt fully satisfied in his lover's arms unless they were his father's. Thranduil had certainly spoiled him. For now, however, the world revolved around Rhonir and he pushed the King from his thoughts.

"Come, lirimaer..." Legolas purred to Rhonir. "The Sindar love better than any other Elf alive."

Rhonir complied immediately with Legolas's wish for them to get closer, trying to sober up so he could do this right. With the change of position he found his head resting on Legolas's neck, body heating up until it was unbearable and frustrating.

"P..please undress me, Sire.." he whispered, looking into Legolas's eyes pleadingly "I ache for you..."

He was unfortunately too intoxicated to know what he was even going to do, now that he had Legolas in the perfect position for a night of delicious coupling. His dark hair shadowed his vision a little and he felt like he was peering at a dream.

Legolas found himself strangely endeared by the Elf before him. He certainly did appear younger than many he had coupled with before, and a bit flustered and nervous. Most of it must have been the wine and his situation, as Legolas seemed to have that effect on Elves that were of a lower status. He was quite lovely to look at, raven hair and bright eyes. His skin was ghostly pale but tinged with pink, and Legolas could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Reaching out, Legolas tilted Rhonir's head towards his own, kissing him gently, almost sweetly as he made quick work of the other elf's clothes, running his hands appreciatively over the smooth flesh that was bared to him.

 

"It is Legolas to you tonight, sweet one... I am no Sire. I am no King."

 

"Legolas... ohhh.." sighed Rhonir into the prince's gentle kiss, feeling more reassured and safe than he had been before. He was always formal and respectful to those he admired, but now from loss of inhibition he found himself murmuring sweet nothings against Legolas's lips. Lightly as if petting a puppy he stroked Legolas's hair, fingers trailing down and along the outer edge of the Prince's pointed ear. Rhonir was already hard from the mere sight of Legolas, and his arousal tightened its grip on his actions with every second that passed. He moved like a ripple on a still lake, singular and quiet with the utmost tender coolness of his dark hair cascading over one shoulder and crotch pressed to the body lying before him. Ah, he could feel a wonderful pressure from where they touched there, and groaned very softly at that.

 

~~

 

Thranduil groaned softly into Bregolien's mouth at those teasing touches just near where he wanted them most, and stepped back to brace himself against a tree.

"Hands lower.." he groaned, allowing Bregolien to climb him if he wished for he knew his body could take it. His exposed body shivered a little as a cool wind blew past, and he held the elf before him in both arms. Well, his hands were supporting his ass and one was massaging a little softness beneath... Elves were flexible, after all. Whatever position struck as most convenient at that moment worked. The King was a little hard, their close contact arousing him to the point where his pupils dilated and stared intently. Grey hair and pale skin, sparkling jewellery and reverent words. He could think of nothing more at this time.

Bregolien complied eagerly, his hand pressing past Thranduil's waistband and diving in to stroke him. He relished the feel of silken flesh in his hand, as if the rest of the King weren't soft to the touch enough. He shuddered heavily as Thranduil teased between his legs, and that, coupled with a cool blast of air that whistled through the trees, caused the almost excessive amount of jewelry adorning the grey elf to jingle musically. He was hungry for the King and practically clawing at him as though he could not get close enough. His loins ached and each muscle was taught and tense in anticipation as he strained against his leggings before he had to reach down to free himself.

 

"I always did enjoy a demanding lover..." He purred against the King's ear. "Though I suppose if you are indeed some sort of god you would ask me to sacrifice myself to you."

 

"Oh, yes.." Thranduil sighed, "Sacrifice yourself for me..." His entire body looked as if it demanded worship, though many would do so without even being asked. Bregolien's hand upon his length was just the touch he needed, and the King thrust into those fine fingers he could tell had experienced ancient lovers before.

"Mmmmmm..." he groaned, his hands gripping then releasing, pinching and smoothing the flesh of Bregoliens's inner thighs, his hands slipping so far until it seemed they were going to tear him open. That would come later, and not through use of hands at all. Thranduil sank down against the tree and pushed his leggings as far as he could get them, tangled with Bregolien and needing more of those long strokes. He was quite possibly the most selfish lover in all of Arda - he knew his partners could get off just by touching him, serving him, being allowed in such an intimate moment... hell, some had even requested to merely watch him undress before being sated for life.

 

~~

 

Legolas groaned as he felt Rhonir's eager hardness press against his hip and he pulled the raven-haired elf into the pillows, before climbing atop him as he attacked his neck and throat with his lips and tongue. This is how he imagined he was when he sought out some of his first lovers. Hard as a rock within a moments notice and close to losing himself as soon as a hand threatened to touch him. He sat atop Rhonir's hips, tossing off the circlet crowning his head and gazing down hungrily at the other, ready to devour him. Gently grasping his companion's wrist, Legolas pressed it above the other's head into the pillows, holding him there firmly. He loved to make his lovers beg before he took them. He wanted to know how desired he truly was, and Rhonir seemed to know how to beg so sweetly.

Rhonir twitched and wriggled at Legolas's hot mouth by his neck, instantly feeling dominated by the Prince. Weight that was bearable and assurance of safety sat upon the young elf, who had his arms above his head now. He wanted more of Legolas on his skin, and writhed eagerly beneath him.

"L-Legolas, please...." he whimpered, rolling his hips from side to side "I need you... All over.."

His gaze was dark and hungry yet he begged so sincerely, pliable and sweet like cookie dough in Legolas's control. He would do anything just to get another taste of those lips or a lick upon any part of his oversensitive body...

 

Legolas gazed down into those lusty dark eyes of the elf beneath him and purred sweetly at him. The elf's tongue was sweet but his eyes flickered in a way that told Legolas that this was a wild one indeed who would certainly live up to his name. He intended on releasing that beast at some point, for he was not certain how long he could keep control of him.

 

"In time, my sweet... I will get my fill. Worry not." Legolas moved up to Rhonir's wrist and pressed his lips to the inside of it, tasting the soft flesh as his own body pressed and dragged over his companion's, making his slow descent downwards. Legolas was teasing him so slowly it was almost cruel. At times it was how he liked to play his lovers, he would tease almost painfully until the other was aching and begging beneath him and his true colors would finally show. Patience would be thrown to the wind and true passions and motives would be made known.

~~

Bregolien hissed between his teeth as they sank down into the grass, Thranduil's strong hands pushing his thighs apart more than anyone had before. He was flexible enough as a dancer, so it was not as painful as it could have been. He craved any sort of touch Thranduil would be willing to give him, because all he could care about was the fact that the King had selected him amongst all others tonight. He reached down to curl both sets of fingers around Thranduil's impressive length, stroking it rhythmically and alternating the motions of his hands. He felt himself twitch against his belly but did not mind it, focusing on worshiping the Elf before him and nothing else.

"You are magnificent, sire..." Bregolien purred against Thranduil's neck.

Thranduil's length throbbed in Bregolien's hands, his head tilting back and hair falling behind until it touched the ground. "More..." he gasped, "Aahhh..." The King loved to hear the praises of his partners and it only served to make him harder, his hands clenching with pleasure around Bregolien's ass. He was squeezing quite firmly as he rid the elf of his leggings, and did quite enjoy the feeling of softness. It was comforting, and sensual. His fingers raked down those thighs and dug in a bit, Thranduil's lips parted as he breathed hotly into the cool night air. He then had the idea of letting Bregolien take pleasure of his own - and quickly moved a hand under one leg to tease close to the elf's secret entrance.

"If you can handle it.. You may sit upon me and ride to the heights of pleasure you've never imagined."

Bregolien groaned at the King's words. It was command, nay, a very strong suggestion and an offer the other elf could not refuse. He bucked his hips forward, moving them in such a way so he could get Thranduil's teasing fingers closer to where he wanted them: deep inside of him. He was becoming impatient and spit into his own hand, reaching down to stroke the King's length. "We shall see if I can..." He teased back, slicking Thranduil thoroughly as he hovered atop him for a moment before slowly seating himself downwards, groaning as he did so. His head fell back and his hair tickled the King's muscular thighs. "If I do not make it through this.." Bregolien could barely think at this point and the rest of what he was trying to articulate came as a low, loud moan.

"Ooohhh...!" Thranduil's face bloomed into a delightful expression, mouth agape and eyes gently closing as he was sheathed within Bregolien. He did not let that face last long however and gripped the elf's waist, commanding him. "Ride me. Show me what you are worth."

The King had a look of great superiority and expectation now, looking with his head tilted up at Bregolien and hands squeezing down to those hips. It had been a while since he'd taken this position with another, but being out in the forest with a stranger as his partner made this an experience he was unlikely to forget.

~~

Rhonir was not one with patience and especially when so aroused - he could hardly stand Legolas's sweet torment! Those lips trailing from his wrist lower and lower... The hot body against him, he wanted more of it, to bite into soft flesh like a starved creature and mark all that pale skin with delicious blooming spots of red. He began to push against Legolas, moving with as much force as he dared to try and remove the grip by his wrists. A low growl came from within his throat and he barely knew that came from him.

"Ungghhhhnnn..." he moaned, arching his back and pulling his legs up around either side.

Legolas felt his cock twitch at the sound of that growl, and it was clear that Rhonir was swiftly losing his patience. He shoved the other's hands down firmly as he felt him resist and grinned down at him, nibbling his lips. "Impatient are we? I thought we were going to savor this together..." He ran his tongue over Rhonir's exposed collarbone. "If you resist, lirimaer, you might receive more than you bargain for...."

"Then give it to me, now..." Rhonir whined, wrapping his legs around the Prince's waist. He honestly had no clue what their bargain was and sought to have his trapped arousal buried in something warm, oh how he wanted to be inside Legolas... "I can take a hard fucking, please... how much longer can you.....nnngh!" He tried resisting once more as he felt Legolas's teeth by his collarbone, a result of his chest pushing a little too far. He tried to roll over and get Legolas beneath him, hoping somehow he would come out on top.

~~

Bregolien stared up at the sky above, or what little he could see through the thick canopy of the trees through heavily lidded eyes as he rode the King towards his own completion, his hips swaying and thrusting forward. He plowed Thranduil into him over and over and angling him so that he would see his own stars behind closed eyelids. He held onto Thranduil's shoulders for his own sanity, needing something to ground him to this earth as his body delighted in otherworldly pleasures. "Aran nin..." He moaned, the slick sound of sex and the soft jingle of silver bells heavy in the air. "Fill me..." He begged, quickening his pace and riding Thranduil with abandon.

Thranduil would have made a quip about how eager Bregolien was to have him, but felt the tip of his length brush against a tight bundle of nerves deep within the elf. A soft cry resulted from that and Thranduil immediately thrust up into it, all the strength in his hips pushing them both upwards. He came with a keening cry into his partner, eyes rolling back as his silver head came into contact with the tree behind him. Thranduil filled Bregolien with his hot seed and for a moment saw the starry sky burst into millions more of greater light, his vision brighter than it had ever been. Then all went to its usual fuzzy darkness, and the King felt blissfully calm. He held the grey-haired ellon in his arms, always one for intimacy and a pleasant trip down from the heights of pleasure.

~~

Legolas was caught off guard as Rhonir reacted in a way he did not anticipate. Soon the other Elf was on top of him somehow, pinning his wrists to the soft ground beneath and something flashed in the Sindar's eyes. Panic and a small bit of fear. The beautiful raven-haired lover atop him was now an ellyth of hair the color of a crimson flame smiling wickedly down at him. Tauriel had tried more than once tried to dominate her Prince in a similar manner. Legolas was not one to easily give up control to his lovers and the Tauriel he saw now had golden eyes and a wicked smile about her lips. "Daro!" He snarled, the words coming out sharper than he had meant, shoving at the creature above him.

Rhonir was almost thrown off but his grip on Legolas's wrists stayed strong, doing what the Prince had done only moments ago. "No.." he sighed, looking more to Legolas like a snarling Tauriel wickedly snapping his wrists in place. It wasn't too long before he was sat on the Sinda's chest, eyes gleaming at the look on that pretty face.

"Why are you scared, Legolas?" he murmured, looking down at the prince with a lopsided grin "I won't hurt you."

‘ _Tauriel_ 's face turned into a strange grin and the grips on Legolas’ wrists only tightened, almost painfully so. They felt like flaming iron vices against his skin and each muscle in his body tensed. Legolas' heart was racing as he struggled beneath the other, blue eyes wide. He could not see Rhonir anymore, and as a darkness threatened to creep into his mind, he could only see his Captain of the Guard and she wanted to do unspeakable things to him. She was on Legolas' chest now, and it felt like a lead weight that was pressing into his shoulders.

"Liar!" The Prince growled at the offender above him, his teeth bared as he bristled. "You will remove yourself from my person this instant..."

Rhonir tilted his head to the side, looking a little confused and upset. The way Legolas behaved seemed more fearful than gameplaying; he was not trying to act in any way other than legitimate terror. And he was angry, too. Rhonir wondered if he'd done something wrong. He shifted down and laid atop Legolas calmly, whispering into his ear.

"What have I done, Legolas?" he asked quietly, unable to resist nibbling at the Prince's ear "What has displeased you so...?"

~~

Bregolien felt the explosion within his body and took a while to come down from his own, shuddering in the King's arms as he remained seated upon him, chest heaving and heart pounding. The grey-haired elf pressed his face into Thranduil's chest as he caught his own breath, continuing to grasp for some sort of anchor of reality, and the feeling of the warm body beneath him was grounding. The stars had faded from his eyes and as clouds passed over the sky, shielding the small dots of light from view, they were enshrouded in darkness and quiet. "I hope that I was worthy of the King's affections, at least for this night..." It was more of a question than a statement, and his fingers twined in the silver Elf lord's hair absentmindedly, lovingly, unsure of how long the night would last at this point. Having never been a lover of Thranduil's before, he expected the King would leave soon. There were many Elves who sought his affections tonight.

"Yes... you were." Thranduil hummed at the feeling of Bregolien's fingers in his hair, wishing to keep the elf in his lap for just a little while longer. It had been a while since he had sat quietly in the forest with a lover in his arms, for Mirkwood had previously been too dark to do so. Though it seemed rather intimate, the King was just like that and held Bregolien close to his body. The cool air around them contrasted with the heat between, Thranduil feeling a deep sense of inner peace. He wondered if his partner could sense it too, but didn't think too much on the subject. His mind was calm, and body satisfied. When they parted ways he would not seek another lover immediately - rather, drink a little more and socialise. Those were his favourite things to do at these occasions, after all.

Bregolien closed his eyes, feeling content and sated. The wine he had been consuming throughout the evening and the vigorous coupling with the beautiful King during this even more lovely evening was more than he could have asked for. It was something he was certain to remember for centuries to come. His breathing quieted and his fingers, still curled in Thranduil's hair slowed. His body became heavy as sleep began to overtake him, drifting off into the world of reverie in the Elvenking's arms.

~~

What appeared to be Tauriel moved to lay atop Legolas, whispering soft, sweet words into his ears. The gentle touches and nibbles suddenly began to feel different and the Prince's eyes cleared slightly, looking up into the very concerned and hurt face of the ellon, Rhohir, whom he had met this night. Gods, what had come over him? This was not Tauriel. His eyes briefly scanned over the other's body to make certain he did not hurt him. "Forgive me..." Legolas murmured, reaching up to press a hand against his raven-haired companion's cheek. "My thoughts have been dark as of late." He reached for his discarded circlet, placing it upon his golden head and frowning with concern at the other Elf. "It would be best if I take my leave, dear one..."

Rhonir moved away from Legolas, coming to lie beside him.

"I understand.." he murmured, still actually not able to understand what he had done. His prince had always been one of fairness and light - for Legolas to have dark thoughts was an unfathomable thing.

"I hope you find happiness with another." His eyes stared up at the ceiling of their tent, and then closed. He would wait for Legolas to leave as intended, then spend the rest of the night passed out. Valar, he needed a drink after this. Or a few hundred. Hopefully he would not remember this feeling of inadequacy, something he'd dealt with for long enough.

Legolas realized immediately what Rhonir was getting at and he pressed his hand quickly over the other's heart, shaking his golden head almost wildly. "Gods... no! No, I am not seeking another out. It is not you it's..."

 _Me. Valar, was that the most cliche phrase I have ever used speaking with a lover before?_ Rhonir's eyes had been glazed with lust and hope for the evening to come and now he had likely offended the other on the deepest possible, most intimate level. Being shunned by a royal, especially someone so well-respected was difficult to recover from say the least.

Legolas hung his head slightly, unsure of what to do. Tauriel was burned into his mind now and he certainly could not feign enjoyment when his whole body wanted to run. He would not do that to Rhonir, for it was unfair. He gently pressed his lips against the other's, stroking his cheek. "I would have been very lucky to lie with you this eve."

But he had to leave. Gods, this was humiliating. Legolas felt like a bumbling elfling again and he wanted nothing more than to run into the night and not show his face for weeks.

Rhonir's fingers trailed across his cheek where Legolas had touched him, lips curled at the kiss. He could not bear such sweetness and confusion any longer, for to his intoxicated mind hardly any of this made sense. He moved then, quickly and silently out of the tent before Legolas could do anything further. And he ran, towards where he knew there would be wine and a few he could seek for companionship throughout the night.

Legolas groaned angrily in the tent and pulled his robes back on, smoothing out the wrinkles from the front as he reached for a glass that was sitting on a small table in the tent and filled it with wine. He thought on Thranduil and the lovely young ellon he had chosen for the evening and bit back the jealousy that rose up inside of him. There was no way his father's night could be going any worse than his own. He slunk out of the tent like a puppy with his tail between his legs and made his way back to the palace, not wishing to run into anyone and hoping to just pass out in Thranduil's bed until the celebrations were over.

Thranduil did not come to his bedroom until the next day, around two hours before sunrise. He did not expect to see his son there, nor was he prepared for the air of negativity he felt coming from the Prince. Something had happened, and it probably wasn't good.

 

He undressed and got into some long silken robes of dark green, intending to spend the week relaxing and floating about somewhere between drunk off his ass and pleasantly pampered. The King had to practically hide from the adoration of his subjects as he needed to rest a while, and came to his room. Clearly his son had similar ideas.

 

"Legolas..?" he murmured, placing a gentle hand to his son's shoulder "Are you alright?" Thranduil slowly crept into bed beside Legolas and wondered for just how long had he been here? It almost seemed like he was... sulking about something.

Thranduil's chambers were perhaps messier than they had ever been. There were more than a few empty wine bottles strung across the floor, the bedspread a mess and Legolas looking quite a bit disheveled, golden hair mussed and blue eyes bloodshot and bleary. Wine was heavy on his breath and he looked at the King crosseyed as he jerked awake. It certain was not the Mirkwood Prince's finest hour.

 

"Adar..." He murmured, rubbing his face and his eyes with the back of his hands.

 

"I... yes, fine." He lied. It was still dark out from the looks of it, and Legolas fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I think I had too much wine."

"No shit.." he grumbled, observing the mess. Thranduil strongly disliked anything out of order, especially in his own room. His gaze followed Legolas's to the sparkling ceiling, studded with white gems against the dark rock. Lying on his back beside his son, Thranduil folded his hands atop his chest.

"Want to tell me why you've made a complete mess of my chambers?" he asked, voice low and weary. Truly, partying for a week straight did seem like something Thranduil had to be younger to partake in. He'd barely lasted two days! By the looks of it, neither had Legolas.

Legolas managed a sheepish smile at the King as his father laid beside him, eyes apologetic and tired. "A rebellious streak?" He murmured, though that wasn't too far from the truth. His interaction with Rhohir had troubled him deeply and he ran his hands through his hair, twisting a golden lock around a long finger. Twirling his hair had been a nervous habit he had retained since childhood and every now and again it would flare up. Blue eyes moved towards the beautiful natural rock above, the gems twinkling like stars in a black sky.

 

"I trust you had a... successful evening?" And by successful, Legolas implied a lot of drinking, dancing, partying, and lovemaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose where he felt a huge amount of tension. "Gods, how many days have I slept?"

"One or two." he replied, having just decided to come and rest a bit himself. "Legolas, you seem to be in pain... And your mind is uneasy. What happened?" Thranduil rolled onto his side and stared at his son, knowing their nights had both turned out very different. He got the feeling Legolas was hiding something, but didn't know exactly how to deal with it.

Gently he placed a hand to Legolas's chest, nudging him for some eye contact. The King needed to know. He hated to see his son feeling anything negative.

He also didn't believe the "rebellious streak", not for a moment. Thranduil had not done anything to warrant such actions - ah, unless Legolas was jealous.

"One or two." he replied, having just decided to come and rest a bit himself. "Legolas, you seem to be in pain... And your mind is uneasy. What happened?" Thranduil rolled onto his side and stared at his son, knowing their nights had both turned out very different. He got the feeling Legolas was hiding something, but didn't know exactly how to deal with it.

Gently he placed a hand to Legolas's chest, nudging him for some eye contact. The King needed to know. He hated to see his son feeling anything negative.

He also didn't believe the "rebellious streak", not for a moment. Thranduil had not done anything to warrant such actions - ah, unless Legolas was jealous.

Thranduil listened intently, a frown deepening on his face. He looked rather pale and worried, but was probably lacking sleep for that. It troubled him to hear of the unrest Legolas felt - all because of Tauriel and Galadriel's despicable plans - the Prince was probably traumatised!

"Know this, iôn nín.." he whispered, taking Legolas into his arms. "I will not let them harm you.. and it is only natural for you to have such horrid thoughts after what they have done. I too experience them... They are not something I would want you burdened with. "

Thranduil actually had been hearing voices but only when completely alone - it was Galadriel's malicious tone threatening him in a language he cared not to translate. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. But the King was not going anywhere.

His son needed him.

Or so he thought.

Legolas rested his head upon Thranduil's shoulder, feeling safe in his father's arms though not completely at ease. It was becoming more transparent how trouble the Prince truly was. There were nights he woke up in a cold sweat, voices in his head, the sickly sweet tang of blood that was not his own rising in his throat. He was certain Galadriel had been furious at his betrayal of his word. Something deep within Legolas made the Sindar Prince fear that she would twist him into something quite unpleasant and unnatural if he did not appease her soon... or, if they were able to kill her first.

"I cannot stay here... You know what we must do." Their options were very limited, and being ever the courageous one Legolas was ready to go traipsing on a journey again to rid their world of Evil once, and hopefully the last time, for all. The Prince paled at the thought and braced himself for Thranduil to reprimand him, to toss him down into the dungeons and make certain that he would never see the light outside of Mirkwood if only to protect him. But by protecting Legolas he was harming them both.

"Wait a little longer." Thranduil hushed, his hand stroking down Legolas's back as if calming an upset child. "When the week is out, I shall start preparing the army.."

At this moment he closed his mind, allowing nothing but a dark calm to float through. He could not let Legolas know what he had planned - no, nobody could know. To be branded a coward for what he feared would be a fate worse than death, as even after he lost his life he would be ridiculed by the battle-slain soldiers of Mirkwood in the Undying Lands. Thranduil was going to wait for as long as he could until he received word from Imladris - only then would he set out for war. Even then, he might have second thoughts..

Thranduil groaned. His mind was a mess, and barely making sense. He wanted to hide. He wanted to pretend they were going to war and turn up too late. He wanted for it all to be over, through no fault of his own. For he was a wise King, and chose his people over the good of the world. Every time.

Legolas was distraught as their link darkened and he feared what his father was planning. There were many things unsaid and being Legolas, the Prince wanted to know each and every detail. This had happened before, right before he left to go to Imladris the first time for Elrond's Council. He slunk back from Thranduil's hand and stood, wavering on his feet as his head throbbed. His muscles were taught and his fair brow furrowed. "You have no intention on going anywhere..." He murmured softly, incredulously.

Again, Legolas could not understand and he felt his frustrations beginning to rise. He did not always understand or respect his father's motives, and would sometimes see them as being purely selfish if he did not dig deeper beneath the surface. "When Imladris falls we all shall die. This is our fight. I will not watch the world burn while you sit upon your throne and wait for hellfire."

"Do not talk to me of hellfire." Thranduil growled, making a dismissive hand gesture towards his son. "Not now, and not ever."

He was in absolutely no mood to argue, and slipped under the covers until there was nothing more than a sulking regal lump buried under layers of green. Rest and refreshment was what he needed before any further discussion could be had. Legolas could not reach his father now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those elves have meanings for their names, but I forgot and lost the document that had it explained. Uh, I think Rhonir was something to do with darkness/shadow and masculinity? I dunno. I used this generator http://elffetish.com/SindaFrame1.php and it was awesome, had a little pixelated Feanor that said whether or not the name generated was cool.  
> Bregol- means sudden, violent and fierce so um YEH passionate elf names = awesome~!


	11. 3-3 : Return to Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand curveball of an idea is thrown. Nobody's anuses were prepared for THIS.  
> [Chapter written Jan 8 to 10]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bells of War are ringing~

A week had passed since the celebrations in Mirkwood and Thranduil was getting busy. He had called the guards to his throneroom for an audience, and appointed an elf by the name of Feren as their new captain. Feren had lead a company of soldiers during the Battle of the Five Armies when their commander fell, and had proved himself to be an excellent swordsman and competent messenger. He normally stood at the gates of the Woodland Realm, and the guards were none too pleased about having gate-man as their captain. They said nothing against their King's decision and remained quiet while Thranduil's personal Royal Guard of ten elves snickered behind their filigreed silver helmets. A change in the ranks could only mean one thing. They were going to war.

 

Of course, Thranduil had no intention on doing that just yet. Why, there were elves that needed training, elite cadets to be formed out of whoever would listen to instruction! Such things took time, centuries to come to fruition. Thranduil knew so, and created a grand excuse for the next time Legolas asked. Speaking of the Prince - Thranduil had not coupled with Legolas in over a week, having his desire driven from him as a new, stronger feeling took hold. He was filled with unease, with the sense that an army of Galadhrim soldiers marched to the edge of his forest with bows and swords, ready to lay waste to his people. He grew wary, strengthening the border enchantment of Mirkwood with an extra spell to repel corruption, effectively keeping out anything remotely tinged with evil. He also took extra care of the precise times which his gates were allowed to open, making it ever more sure that only his will and his alone could open the magically fortified gates. Every patrol, every hunting party.. Thranduil knew of it, and allowed. But he was ever watchful to make sure his son did not run off and start the war prematurely.

 

Two weeks passed.

 

For the past several weeks Legolas had immersed himself in thoughts of war and preparation. His interactions with Thranduil had consisted of a few words each day, typically involving the Prince asking something of strategy. They had barely touched, and Legolas had taken out his frustrations on the training field and their recruits, for they needed to be prepared for anything after all. He felt a coldness and distance from the King that he had not felt since he had left with the Fellowship. He knew Thranduil was watching him the entire time like a hawk so that he did not leave and try to take on the enemy single-handedly, foolishly running into battle alone.

 

Legolas would share his meals quickly with the King on occasion, though he spent much time alone, training well into the night with sword and blade, sharpening steel, or working on footwork. He was itching to leave, to lead their army to Imladris before they were surrounded from all sides by Galadriel's forces. It was suicide, waiting here this long, and the thoughts of what was coming while they remained like sitting ducks was driving him mad with anticipation. So he lost himself in the feeling of the weight of his blades in his hands, the heavy, dull thud as they hit targets made of wood. His steps were silent, calculated, and his marks were always hit flawlessly.

 

He would practice until the early hours of the morning before he would collapse for an hour or so and train the recruits. They respected their Prince but at the same time did not wish their heads to be bitten off since Legolas seemed to have so short a fuse these days.

The time came once more when Legolas and Thranduil were sat together, discussing strategy. The King was listening to what his son had planned - they were both sat on Thranduil's bed, and the skies had begun to fade to a greyish purple outside. Naturally one would assume Thranduil to be a little tired at this hour, and indeed he was showing some signs of lacking focus. He could hear voices other than his son's within his mind, and somehow seemed more distant than ever.

"...has there been word from Imladris yet..?" he asked, voice floating and echoing around the room. His eyes had begun to derp, and he was no longer looking directly at the Prince. What was this strange feeling within him, hot and aggravating with the pounding of his heart sounding like drums of war? Had he spent too much time raising morale amongst his soldiers and was fighting internally between hiding and bravery? Or was the spirit of his people beginning to affect him, anger towards Galadriel and Tauriel combined to something that was slowly eating away at his mind.

As he waited for Legolas to answer he suddenly twitched, like an ant had bit him.

 _"I hope he did not see that.."_ Thranduil thought to himself, finding that random muscle spasms were not something he needed on the eve of war.

Legolas had noticed changes in his father these past weeks, much as he was certain the King had noticed the changes his son was experiencing. This is what war did to one... few were immune. It hardened. Fear was a cold and terrible thing. He gazed down at the map spread out across the bed between them. "No word yet..." He knew that was what Thranduil was waiting for and he prayed that Elrond would send word any day now, though even then, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that they would be too late by the time they had arrived. It would take days to reach Rivendell, and in Legolas' opinion they should have left days ago.

As Thranduil twitched Legolas looked up suddenly, frowning at the King. His father's normally clear blue eyes seemed strangely unfocused and distant. He reached across the bed to take Thranduil's hand in his own, squeezing it warmly in reassurance in a way he had not in days. "Adar... are you well?"

Legolas was quick to push aside any and all doubt, negative feelings harbored for his father when he could see the other was in some sort of need. Something wasn't right. Legolas was incredibly uneasy.

Where Legolas gripped his father's hand, Thranduil felt a sudden sharp pain shoot right up his arm. He twitched again, feeling as if something was beginning to unravel from the point of contact they shared. His lips moved to respond to his son, but nothing came out other than a slight whimper. Odd sensations were streaking all around his body, one in particular crawling up his spine...

 

A scent, like caramelised bacon frying with a dash of cinnamon filled the room. Thranduil tensed in discomfort, and clasped a hand to the back of his neck. It caused him to wince, and quickly withdraw his hand. In his palm lay a ragged strip of dark red, the sweetness of his blood mingling with something more smoky. And from his neck rose a column of spiralling white, like the steam of a hot geyser curling skyward before a gush of water hit.

 

But there was no water to be found. Except from Thranduil's eyes, tightly shut with tears forming so hot it was as if his eyeballs would melt within his head. He groaned quietly, feeling an uncomfortable prickling at his skin turn from light scratchy barbs to a thousand heated needles. His whole body began to tremble, so tense the veins in his hands were raised as he gripped the front of his robes, tugging at them, anything to lessen the heat. He'd wrenched his hand from Legolas by force, unable to withstand it any longer.

 

A deafening rush could be heard within his head, like his brain was going to dissolve in a surge of boiling blood. His hands clenched tighter and ripped the seams of his clothes, silken strips parting with the silver sheen of a rising moon. Pale skin was revealed to be raw and tight, contracting like sheet-white paper curling up in a roaring fire. And then it split, deep holes forming over blackening muscle and singed bone. Thranduil howled in agony, clutching at his chest where he felt the heat was practically eating him alive. The subjects of his realm were just as distressed, shrieking and running in chaos as the watchmen relaid the terrible news from their posts high up in the trees. Galadriel stood at the edge of the forest, Narya on one hand and Nenya on the other.

 

Mirkwood was burning.

 

Legolas watched in absolute horror as Thranduil's body contorted and appeared as though it had been set aflame. It was a horrific sight and he felt a singe in their connection, as though someone had set fire within his head. His own skin began to feel uncomfortably warm. It was then that the deep horns of the forest sounded, a booming sound that was so loud Legolas' ears began to ring. It was a warning and came in long, continuous bursts that made Legolas feel like he was in some terrible dream he couldn't awake from. It was then that he heard screams in the palace, Elves calling for their loved ones and fleeing.

 

Wide eyed and terrified, Legolas looked to his father. They had no choice but to run... He did not know what to do, but reached for the King's wrist and tugged him forward, trying to reach for him with his mind as he led him into the halls of their palace that were filled with Elves running for their lives. Their armies, their training... it all meant nothing. He threw a robe over Thranduil's burning flesh in an effort to protect it. _"I am here, Adar... Breathe, breathe for me..."_

 

In all truth, Legolas himself forgot to breathe. He called for any Elves that were left in the palace but none rose to his command. He hoped they were already fighting. Mirkwood was in complete panic. He prayed to the Valar that they were not trapped.

 

\--

 

Tauriel stood alongside Galadriel, her golden eyes gleaming with the light of the flames that would reduce Mirkwood to ashes. The King had not left his palace of course, and so it would be his downfall. She moved forth through the trees effortlessly, either wishing to watch the two Sindar Lords burn at the hands of Galadriel or kill them herself.

 

Thranduil's mental control slipped and the gates were thrust open, elves spilling out into the woods to desperately try to save what they could. Those who were in armor had skin scorched by the burning metal, those who could heal were casting magic sigils into the sky to force the weather into rain - but these flames were no ordinary bursts of forest fire. Their magic was nearly powerless against Galadriel's rings, and smoke filled the air so thick even elf-eyes were straining to see. Thranduil's palace was of rocky caves like his halls and luckily his halls were not burning yet - but he couldn't tell the difference between himself and his surroundings anymore.

 

 _"AAAAAIIIII NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN_ " he wailed through their mental connection, blindly stumbling after Legolas as pieces of his body melted like stringy cheese over a spitfire. Smoke was coming in through the gates now and elves in a panic were rushing to get out, some falling off the paths and into the waterways below. Fair voices were raised in absolute terror, loudest of all Thranduil's royal guard directing those who had their minds with them, commanding and searching. They shouted for their King, the calls of "Aran-nín! Aran nín!!" ringing out atop the chaos. None wanted to fail in their duty, to see Thranduil die. But nobody could tell who was who any more, and those who were without armor were in the forest scattered like ants while the soldiers looked for something to fight. There was anger, fear, and grief in the air that night. The trees were shrieking in a cacophony of agony, ancient woods burning to the ground from the outside in.

 

Thranduil forced himself to keep going, relying completely on Legolas for if their hands parted, he was sure he would die. But there was barely any skin nor muscle to hold onto there, something frighteningly skeletal and blackened wrapping around the Prince's fingers.

 

\--

 

Galadriel raised her hands higher, cackling away as the flames took higher into the sky. She could see swirls painting in domes in the distance, and laughed even louder. The Silvan could do nothing against her. They would all burn.

Legolas ran and weaved through the masses, keeping a tight hold on his father that felt as though it were literally melting away. The Galadhrim were on them now and shrill screams were heard ringing in the air as their people were cut down like animals. Legolas had his blade tight in his hand and squinted through the suffocating haze of black smoke. It was impossible to tell who was the enemy now, though the occasional elf running at them with swords brandished were mercifully obvious, and Legolas cut them down.

 

Now they were deeper into the forest and Legolas' feet knew the way although his eyes, ears, and nose were practically useless in finding their path. They would find Galadriel, and Legolas planned on ridding Middle Earth of this evil once and for all. His eyes were burning from the smoke and he covered his face the best he could to avoid getting a lungful of it, his feet working on their own accord as he guided Thranduil through the trees, like he had once did as a child and his father was blinded by dragon's fire. Now, this was a completely different fire, and neither Elf could see. It was the blind leading the blind. Mirkwood was dying and he could hear the trees begging for their lives as they twisted and turned black. The hand he held had become horrifyingly skeletal and he dared not look back at what Thranduil was becoming, keeping his eyes before him to avoid leading them too close to flame.

 

Legolas called out to their captains, the ones who were listening and looking for order, to evacuate everyone from the city and make for safety. It was impossible to fight Galadriel in the heart of Mirkwood. Burning branches were crashing about them, and Legolas feared he had made the wrong decision by leaving the palace. Amongst the chaos, in the distance, Legolas heard an Elvish horn...

 

\--

 

Word had spread quickly to Elrond's city of Thranduil's preparation of an army, and army he hoped would have joined them in Imladris. Deep in his heart however, and in his mind, for Elrond possessed the gift of foresight much like several of his kin of Old, the Peredhel knew the Elvenking would not come in time. More disturbing visions of a black and grey army of Galadhrim led by a Golden woman in tattered white, her hands bejeweled with two of Arda's most powerful rings, flanked by a She-Elf with fire in her hair and death in her heart, came to him in the night. The next morning he had called his army together suddenly, donned his armor of black and gold, and lead a march towards Mirkwood. Galadriel was, of course, preparing to strike those who had betrayed her first before she even decided to seek out her final ring. Vilya glowed upon his hand as he rode, sensing her brothers and sisters in the distance.

 

They had arrived just as the smoke began to rise from the trees of Mirkwood's forest as they stood atop the hill. Raising a horn to his lips, he blew three long bursts, distinguished amongst the alarms being sounded throughout the trees. If Thranduil was still alive, and he sensed him to be though he could not tell for how long, he would make it known to the other that he had come to his aide, regardless of the fact that the Elvenking had not come to his. He commanded his best begin to weed out the Elves of Mirkwood and pull them to the safety of the fields surrounding the dense wood and slaughter any who stood in their way. He could sense a dark evil enveloping the darker trees now, and spurred his horse onwards. He would find Thranduil.

Legolas and Thranduil were somewhere in the middle of Northern Mirkwood by now and the smoke was getting thicker, despite the trees so twisted and barren they had nothing left to burn. It was then Thranduil could feel he was choking on it, as if it filled his lungs and there was death kindling inside him. The sound of someone's voice caught his failing attention and they cried for everyone to go east, east of the Woodland Realm there was a short distance out of the forest, and away from danger. The King however knew his son was leading them to fight, even though he could barely move.

"Legolas..." he whispered through their connection, a thing that burned and crackled like the fading ashes of an ancient fire "You must leave me... I am going to die.. regardless of what you do."

The sounds around them had melded into one, snapping and screaming with the distant whoosh of the trees lighting up in the south. Now Thranduil could feel his legs giving up and stumbled, leaning into Legolas as best he could. There was hardly anything left of his face (save his long hair and a remnant of his eyebrows) and so the sharp edge of his cheekbone cut into his son's shoulder, as if he leant upon him from tiredness as they sat together in bed and haphazardly sank his teeth somewhere. There were hardly any soldiers of their own now, as everyone was busy being evacuated. Thranduil heard the horn, and raggedly sighed. This truly was the end.

 

\--

 

At the sight of the Noldor army seemingly appearing from nowhere, Galadriel called her elves to arms and ordered them to lay waste to all in sight. The Galadhrim became crazed and frenetic, shrieking battle cries in their native tongue with every elf wielding a sword charging towards their enemy. Elrond's army were organised and a little taken aback by the Galadhrim's behaviour, but as some had been taking the Mirkwood folk to safety there was still a battalion of five hundred left to fight against Galadriel's forces. Those with bows took the rear and fired in wide arcs towards the advancing elves in their camouflaged grey and black, armor glinting in the light of orange flames backing the scene in Mirkwood. Elrond had left to find Thranduil, and his people had their commanders of folk like Glorfindel who knew how to lead a battle. The Galadhrim were fast, and came upon the Noldor like ants after a burst of cocaine. Steel met iron, for the Noldor had more advanced weaponry than even the elves of the Golden Wood. Had there been the Sindar with them and their finest crafts in all of Arda, the battle would have been over soon. But the Galadhrim kept swarming despite beheadings and arrows to the knee, as if pushed by a force that compelled them to survive. The Noldor began to despair and were hacking at bodies until they couldn't move, and essentially everyone was running around trying to kill each other and not knowing what was going on.

 

Galadriel walked with air and flame swirling about her, like a great ball of fire lifting her up above the forest. She wanted to find Thranduil, and watch him die. And Tauriel too, if that was possible. Death. Ruin. Suffering. She wanted it all.

Legolas caught Thranduil as he leaned on him suddenly and held him close. The scent of charred flesh and bone was nauseating, sickening, and he felt bile rise in his throat. The Elf in his arms was hardly an elf anymore, and was quickly fading from him. Regret twisted his insides at their lack of closeness these last weeks, and even more so that he was not more firm, did not push harder to go into battle. If Thranduil died now he would regret not sending himself off as he should have, as whatever sacrifice Galadriel craved. At least dying in the process of trying to kill her would have been a soldier's death. Now, he feared that they would burn here amongst what was left of this part of the forest, they would both die, and it would all be Legolas' fault. Fear, doubt, guilt, denial... they were all heavy within him now and he found it nearly impossible to take further steps. He rested his chin atop Thranduil's head and fought back tears that welled up in his bloodshot, smoke filled gazed. Perhaps it was emotion, perhaps it was the smoke. No, it was definitely a mixture of both.

 

"You're not going to die, Adar..." He whispered into the singed silver hair. "You cannot. You cannot leave me. We can fight this... we can...."

 

Legolas heard the horn again, closer this time. He could still hear their captains urging their people to evacuate. He grasped Thranduil's hands in his own, what was left of them. His heart was tearing in two. "I want you to go with the others... find safety. I will meet you there. Please..."

 

\--

 

Elrond was unable to urge his horse far once he found a tree as old as Arda herself laying in flames across his pass. She refused to go forward and the Peredhel thought nothing of it, swinging himself from the saddle and sending her off. He would go on foot from here. First, he would find Thranduil. Then he would deal with Galadriel, provided he still stood and did not fade into the fire. Vilya continued to glow on his hand and he knew he would have to reserve any and all power and energy he had for the final battle. They were only just beginning. Mirkwood would burn, but Thranduil's people could rebuild, but not without their lords who were lost, somewhere amongst the smoke.

 

He found a way around the flaming log, thinking nothing of cutting a Galadhrim down limb for limb when approached. Elrond was an incredibly skilled fighter and leader, and, hearing the chaos behind him, knew that Glorfindel had been his best choice to lead that line of their army. Muttering soft Quenyan words, Elrond provided a light shield around himself, a barrier to the smoke and flame. He would need all the help he could get if he were to distinguish any friend from foe out here.

 

Elrond blew his horn again, this time, calling out the King's name. "THRANDUIL!" There was no time to waste, though, he feared it may already be too late.

Thranduil at this moment wanted to be left to die. He could barely walk without Legolas, and considered himself already dead. But he knew no matter what he said, his son would continue to fight for everything they stood for. Their forest, their people, their honour, their hope.

 

The fair voice of Elrond cut through the screams and deafening destruction around them, Thranduil immediately recognising his friend's tone. With what he had left of his failing strength, he raised his left hand. A great light of bright green shot into the sky from his position, alerting Elrond to where the two Sindar stood and inadvertently bringing attention to them from all the folk in the surrounding lands. Thranduil wanted nothing more than to be in someone's arms and for the pain to just stop. He'd seen and felt enough flame for one lifetime. Now, he felt as if it would end.

 

"Go." his thoughts were strangled, smoking and dull. Yet he tried to speak to his son despite their fading connection. Flooded with fear and agony, the King was unsure just how much of what he felt was understood by his son. And he collapsed, what was left of his legs crumbling in an ashen heap below.

 

Legolas could feel their connection fading, but he managed to catch a weak command telling him to go, giving him permission to finish this. It took everything he had now, to leave. It was only because of Elrond's voice in the distance and the beacon Thranduil sent out for the Imladris Lord that Legolas felt comfortable enough to do so. Or else he knew he would have given up and just died alongside of him. He used what strength he had left, what energy, what emotions were toiling inside him, to run. Anger, fear, hate, sadness, they were all a very dangerous and very violent combination. No more words could be spoken lest Legolas choke them out. He squeezed Thranduil's hands once more and turned and bolted. He would make sure Galadriel's death was a slow and agonizing one.

 

\--

 

Tauriel took immediate notice of the green light in the sky and flew to it like a moth to a flame. If it were Thranduil or the Princeling, she cared not. She just wanted to get her hands on a Sindar throat and rip him to shreds from the outside in. She was practically squealing with glee as she came upon the heap of charred flesh that was exuding the bright beacon of light. Through the smoke, she could see what was left of the one who was once her King, the one who she had considered almost a fatherly figure at one point in her life. She unseated her blade and made her way slowly to the King. "Oh, how far we have fallen, Thranduil Oropherion... Where is your Princeling now?" She drawled, pressing the tip of her blade against what was left of his cheek, digging cruelly into exposed bone. "Do not worry, Sire... I shall take this nice and slow, for the both of us...."

Thranduil closed his eyes, unwilling to give Tauriel anything remotely pleasing. He would die of his injuries sooner than the pain, and let his body go limp. The blade in his cheek was surprisingly cool, and he sighed. Had he any muscles left in his lips he would've smiled, at the cruel familiarity of it all. He remembered the metal slicing into him countless times at precious battles. Only now, he did not fight back. Slowly, his consciousness began to fade.

 

Elrond could tell shit was going down and made his way as fast as he could to Thranduil, noticing Tauriel hunched over him like a rat gnawing on a meaty corpse. Meanwhile Galadriel had also come to take a look, and was laughing madly in her floating ball of flame.

"You cannot defeat us!!" she howled, looking absolutely demonic with glowing red eyes and white robes singed black. That was, until a burning arrow thwacked into the side of her face. She roared in anger and thrust a column of fire towards where the shot had come from, only to see a Silvan elf clad in dark leather run like the wind. Some were still putting up a fight, to protect their King and whoever tried to save him. Now they ran from Galadriel, scattering everywhere. One of them shot at Tauriel's back, before disappearing behind a tall black tree. Galadriel had gone into a frenzy, and appeared more of a dragon than an elf. She wanted to watch the world burn.

Removing his crimson cloak and wrapping it carefully around Thranduil to shield his friend, Elrond moved to face Galadriel head-on. He watched Tauriel drop beside Thranduil, and Elrond wasted no time in severing her red head from her miserable shoulders. What remained of Thranduil's guard were firing a volley of arrows now at anyone who threatened their King's safety. It was an admirable attempt, but as soon as Galadriel began to blast hellfire at any who interfered with her plans, they ran.

 

"Galadriel...." Elrond growled loudly now, raising a hand to her, his grey eyes alight with their own fire. Vilya glowed brightly upon his hand. "You battle is not with the Sindar... it is with me." He raised his sword, and a strange blue vapor began to envelop his palms. "Spare Thranduil, and you shall have your wish..."

 

\--

 

Legolas heard the commotion coming from the opposite direction of where he was headed, and heard Galadriel's cackling screams. He turned and the beacon of light was gone from the sky. He had to trust his instincts and find his way back carefully. Galadriel would not kill his father. She would have to kill him first. He ran as fast as his legs could take him and found Galadriel, singed black robes swirling about her, a most terrible angel of fire and smoke. He saw Elrond shielding his father. " _Hold on, Adar..._ " He was not even certain Thranduil could hear him at this point, but he reached out to whatever scraps and shreds of their connection remained. " _I am here..."_

 

The Prince stood only yards away from Galadriel now, both daggers bared and ready to bite into a target. He ran behind her and leapt at the corrupt queen, blades flying.

Galadriel turned and just barely missed having her boobs snicked off by the sharp daggers Legolas aimed towards her. She bent backwards and kicked at his chest, bracing her hands on the ground to flip away from the Prince.

She ran with the ground burning behind her towards Elrond, hand outstretched for Vilya and talons of flame reaching forth.

"GIIIVEEE IT TO MEEEE!!!" she shrieked, not caring for Thranduil as she knew he would die in any case. If Elrond wished to fight her then she would kill him, but still had enough of her wits available to negotiate. "THE RING..." Her voice was deeper now, like the echo of winds and sheer dark power. All around them was a circle like the aftermath of a huge explosion, from the swirling winds and flickering flames.

Legolas narrowly missed Galadriel as she flipped out of the way, her movements unnatural and swifter than anything the Prince had seen in an Elf. He landed on his feet and hurled his dagger at her, aiming for her chest and somersaulting down to race to where Elrond stood, kneeling beside the King.

 

Elrond, meanwhile, held his glowing hands towards her as if leading a wild animal towards him. He did not draw away from Thranduil, but remained before him to shield his body. They had nowhere to run but for now the Peredhel was unconcerned. He was one of the Elves gifted with the Ring of Power, Vilya, who sensed its master's needs. Grey eyes locked on the creature that was now racing toward him and with a few soft words under his breath, the streams that ran through the forest, some of the only things left untouched by fire, rose and came crashing in the distance, moving swiftly over falling trees and Elven corpses. He needed some sort of barrier, and this water was touched by the magic of Vilya. The crashing current form a river anew between Elrond and Galadriel, and he prayed it was strong enough that she dared not cross it.

 

"Go back to the shadows, filth... There is no room in this world for another Dark Lord..."

 

Legolas's dagger buried itself in Galadriel's chest, only for her to unleash a burst of horrific cackling laughter as the blade was absorbed. The metal turned to sludge in her flames and melted down her breast, like some sort of silvery armour.

"I am no LORD!" Galadriel screamed and raised her hands higher, now on ground level with Elrond and forcing her hellfire to meet the enchanted water, causing sparks and steam to fly. The two essences of the world were blent in a whirl of sheer power, the very nature of it akin to the wrath of the Valar albeit on a smaller scale. "You shall give me the ring or despair! I will send you all into ruin, so you may never return to Middle-Earth again! This land is MY dominion now."

 

Thranduil could sense his son's presence nearby, and slowly turned his head. He could not see a thing but knew Elrond was protecting him, and Legolas was by his side.

"Iôn.." he whispered through their connection which held a little more strength now that they were close. "I must leave this world now.. May I.. borrow your strength?"

Galadriel was powerful, far more so than he had suspected. Although she was not Narya's keeper, the dominion she seemed to have over both rings on her hand were a deadly combination. Vilya was faltering against the Elrond's hand and his chants, calling the water surrounding them and using the ring to control it, to fight the fire, became louder amongst the chaos. He was forced down to one knee, the flames lapping at the stream, and the sparks from their skirmish jumping into small piles of dried leaves and setting those alight near his feet. He could not let her win. He would not.

Legolas paid no mind to the fight before him now as he felt Thranduil's weak voice inside his mind and reached down for the King, his hands shaking. His father was like a flickering flame at the end of a wick, ready to burn out if even the slightest puff of breath were to come too close. He understand not what Thranduil asked of him, and pondered this for several long moments. Then, when he realized, his eyes began to burn with tear and smoke. There was no choice. If this was his father's dying wish, than Legolas would not deny him.

_"Yes... You may have it all. You may have my everything."_

Thranduil had no other choice - he would not have his son be tortured in this battle he couldn't win. Their connection grew white hot and the feeling of a thousand needles permeated Legolas's skin. His eyes began to glow, and Thranduil began to see.

Slowly he walked, with heavy steps towards Elrond. His magic power at its peak, combined with Legolas's... Thranduil used what he could to speak to Elrond. He placed both hands on his friend's shoulders and offered his strength, the voice of the Elvenking coming from the Prince's lips.

"We cannot win... We will die here. Please, Elrond. See what will happen to us..."

Galadriel heard him and laughed.

"Die, yes DIE! You cannot defeat me!" Spurred by Thranduil's defeated voice she put forth a greater effort into her spells, beginning an ancient chant in black speech to call forth evil spirits from within her flames. Thranduil thought she was going to summon a balrog, and shook Elrond.

"We must give in!"

Elrond could not feel the hands on his shoulders at first, for if he turned his attention away, even for a moment, Galadriel would use it to her advantage and they would all be consumed and death and flame. Finally, when he heard a voice, he saw out of the corner of his eye that it was Legolas. Straining to hear him over the sounds flame, waves, and mad laughter, the Peredhel swallowed a lump in his throat. There were two voices coming from Legolas' lips, not one. Thranduil lay lifeless beneath the cloak where he had left him. He was using his son to communicate with him where his own body had faltered and failed him.

 

Fear gripped his insides. He knew what was being asked of him. To give up. To let them burn. His dark browed furrowed and he growled, shoving the Prince's hands away from him. "No... I will not die like a coward... not as you choose to do."

 

The chanting of the Black Speech grew louder, and there was a ringing in his ears as the skies around them began to darken. They stood alone against whatever evils Galadriel wished to release upon them. None would come for aide. Not the Men, not the Dwarves... this was their battle and they were losing. They would lose, and the rest of Middle Earth would fall to ruin. The time of the Elves was ending. The time of all things living and good was ending.

"I will not stop..." He shouted, his brow glistening in sweat, the flames threatening to overtake them all. It was so hot, so close... hotter than the fires in Mount Doom had ever been.

At being called a coward, Thranduil could take it no more. This existence was not one they could sustain, and he saw no other choice.

"So be it." said he, moving away from Elrond and towards the swirling water.

 _"I am sorry... iôn nín. One day you shall understand_." Thranduil knew he was about to kill both himself and his son. But they would go to a better place, for there was no hope left in Middle-Earth. _"I act from love. Not cowardice."_ Now he knew not who he was speaking to - his glowing form passed through Elrond's barrier and immediately became engulfed by flames.

"Yesssss!!" Galadriel screeched, burning both Thranduil and Legolas as one, to a crisp. Thranduil took the pain upon himself, and behind Elrond his fading body twitched with the shock. He would not let Legolas suffer. It was over soon enough - for as soon as Galadriel had ended the two lives of the Sindar, she went for Elrond.

Elrond watched the most painstaking sacrifice he had ever witnessed. If he had reached out to grab Legolas to stop him he would have brought Galadriel's wrath and ruin on their both. Instead, he continued to try and hold her at bay. Watching both the Prince and his old friend perish in a burst of flame and smoke. The clouds darkened even more and lightning light the sky in terrifying bursts. He heard screams in the distance, and he felt himself weakening. He could not keep this fight up on his own. It was using all the strength he had.

 

Both knees buckled now and Elrond's chanting had slowed, was becoming a whisper as the flames grew higher around him, biting at his armor, his face. His barrier was yielding, and he closed his grey eyes, watching flashes of his many long years of life before closed eyes as the heat began to consume him. His first meeting with Celebrian, the birth of his three beautiful children, the morning he had found out Elessar had stolen the heart of his only daughter, when Arwen had chose immortality... the day Thranduil's light had come back into his life. It all was starting to fade before him now, and soon he would disappear into nothingness as Thranduil had. As they all would.

However it was not a fate of eternal nothing that awaited those of the Eldar who died - it was into the Halls of Mandos, where they might wait to be reborn. Both Thranduil and Legolas were thrust into eternal darkness, bodiless yet joined by their souls. What was left of their bodies in Middle-Earth had faded to the air, as elves did when they died. The Firstborn were not meant to die. Such an occurrence was unnatural and terrible, for their lives were precious and everlasting things. As the two Sindar awaited judgement alongside many, many other elves... Galadriel came upon Elrond with her hand held out for Vilya. Cloaked in black steam she asked him for it, a hysterical and sweet tone to her voice. She knew she had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel u sneaky fuck :X


	12. 4-1 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebirth. Glorious, glorious rebirth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys when we were writing this, we had NO CLUE at all about the finer details of things in the Silmarillion. Now I know that Valinor is actually not the entire continent of Aman... but the word is referenced so many times and in so many different contexts here, a simple find-and-replace just would not do. So... yeah. Here, The Undying Lands is often referred to as Valinor. The places elves sail to when they wanna leave Middle-Earth. We'll call the city of the Valar 'Valmar' and uh fix up shit from there. :x forgive meeee~
> 
> End of this chapter reached: 14/1/15

Everything had happened so fast, for when Thranduil joined with Legolas in his body he had not remembered a single thing. When he came to, his vision was greeted with black, nothing but darkness, and a chill as cold as death. But he was not alone. Seated, at the end of a long Hall with walls and floors of jet-black marble, two huge doors at the opposite end, alongside faces he recognized, and those he didn't. Only, they were less like bodies and more like vapors. Shaped as Elves and some Men, though at the same time formless.

 

For a moment he began to panic, the slab of marble he was seated on cold to the touch, threatening to suck whatever life and warmth out of him there was left and then, then Legolas came to the horrifying realization where he was. These were the Halls of Mandos he had only heard about in stories from Elves of Old giving their own interpretation. Perhaps he would have been excited to see something new, for Legolas was always an adventurer, but he did not remember death. He remembered darkness and an almost comforting heat, but before that the screams of terror, fear, and desolation.

 

Memories came swirling back and he recalled Thranduil, his love, charred and dying, his last wish to use Legolas' strength. And it had been what had killed them both.

 

 _"I am sorry..."_ He recalled him saying now, something he had heard in the void, and fear gripped him... sorrow, sadness, and everything dark. Thranduil had taken them both here when it looked like they had lost. Perhaps they already had, but Legolas was still ready to fight. Now, they would get no such chance. He glanced down the Hall at the doors, as intimidating as the rest of the hall, ornately carved and impenetrable. Elves here would sometimes wait indefinitely. Then, panic began to take hold. Thranduil, where was Thranduil?

" _Adar_..." He reached out, hoping, if the King was nearby, he would feel him and reach back. Had he not made it? Was he alone?

Thranduil meanwhile was being questioned by Mandos, who thought to put him before the Valar to be judged in their Circle of Doom. He was trying his very best to explain why he had killed that one Galadhrim (who sat beside Haldir, who still had no fingers on one hand) and offer reason to the maddening questions when he heard his son's voice. It was loud, and echoed throughout the room - which was situated at the end of the doors in the long hall Legolas's spirit waited in.

_"Legolas... I am in questioning, are you okay?"_ he asked, a gentle tone of warmth permeating his son's mind despite how weary Thranduil was. Mandos raised an eyebrow, for he did not emote much more than that and spoke deeply.

"You have **bonded** with your son?" he asked, tone flat but gaze incredulous. Thranduil shook his head and looked away, tapping his fingers together nervously. Or he would have done, if he had a body. The other elves in this room were held as witnesses and had their bodies, just not their freedom. The Galadhrim at least had their spine back, but Haldir had not been given his fingers as a punishment for serving Galadriel and abusing his skinchanger powers against his kin.

"He and I can speak through our minds, though we have not bonded..." said Thranduil quietly, but Mandos shook his head.

"Unnatural." he growled, rising from his great chair of twisted black chrome and living skulls "Council with you, and your son. Come."

And Mandos thrust forth his hand, taking Thranduil's form into his great palm. He was of the Valar, and took shape in something twenty meters tall with giant bony hands able to hold an infinite number of souls. Legolas was suddenly thrust through the door, and held against his father as Mandos walked through another door.

"... _Hi_." said Thranduil, grinning with lips he didn't have.

Legolas found that he was barely able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation, and when he was suddenly thrust into another room entirely with a form he recognized as Thranduil, his mind felt as though it was spinning. Yes, this was some terrible nightmare. He did not need to ask to know the monstrously large Valar who stood before them now, looking none too happy and quite grim. Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar, was the one who would decide their fates. It was then that Legolas became fearful. Having had barely enough time to even begin to think back on all of his years of life, centuries of mistakes and misgivings, accomplishments and prideful moments, the Prince knew one part that stuck out above all others and would undoubtedly be judged harshly.

Now that he had been summoned here alongside Thranduil, he expected the worse. Their relationship was typically not looked upon favorably in the slightest. It was an abomination, and would be quite difficult simply explain away.

 _"I hope you have some sort of grand idea on how to get out of the mess we're in..."_ Legolas was careful with his words even through their link, for he was uncertain how much Mandos could hear, if at all. Likely everything. Yes. They were royally fucked.

Thranduil had no grand plan, for he was now considered an incestuous kinslaying coward, amongst other things. He could only hope to tell the truth and get away with it.

 

"Thranduil Oropherion. Legolas Thranduillion. Family, and yet lovers. All we Valar have seen and known your deeds, yet cannot make sense of your state." Mandos lifted both elves to his eye level, staring deep into their souls with pupils as black as night. He was not one to forgive and forget, though had been known to be moved by tales of love. Thranduil knew this, yet didn't use it to his advantage. He would tell what needed to be told - any cunning tricks would surely be noticed. And with those eyes he stared into, beneath a stern brow like a grey stone precipice with no emotion to be found... Thranduil could tell he was a step away from being thrown into the Void.

 

"We know what we have done is wrong in your eyes, yet see no ill in a mutual love where none is harmed and all is precious. I love my son deeper than the fall from the edge of the world; you shall take my life and leave no suffering behind before Legolas and I are sundered."

Thranduil wished terribly that he could lean against his son and hold the Prince close, for he could feel a great fear coming from him.

_"I have given my life for you, iôn nín. I will not hesitate to do so again."_

It was Thranduil's firm belief that Legolas, his beautiful young son, deserved immortality and the best that eternal life had to offer. For no matter how selfish and materialistic Thranduil could be, he would always prize his son's life above his own.

 _"I would not ask this of you, Adar... Not now, and not ever..."_ Before the painfully scrupulous eyes of the Valar, Legolas knew that he was concocting a sentence for them both in his mind. The risk of being thrown into the void was great, but he knew that the possibility of being separated for their sin in life was greater still. A pain more harsh than the void was eternal separation, of which Legolas knew he was not strong enough to endure. He reached out to take his hand, but grasped nothing, for there was nothing to grasp nor anything to grasp with. It was the warmth of Thranduil's voice that was the only thing keeping them close under Mandos' gaze, which was as dark and cold as his halls.

 

Now Legolas' voice rang in the air, and Mandos' eyes moved to the Prince, observing him intently. "One cannot will who the heart chooses..." It was a simple argument, but it held true. Their love had been born from sorrow, pain, and healing. There was a deep love Thranduil had always had for his son, but as Legolas had matured, the Prince sought out more intimate affection in addition to the unconditional love a parent had for his child.

"Please..." Legolas hated to beg for this but there was no hiding behind lies and secrets anymore. Those vices did not exist in this realm. "If you must take someone from this world, take me... My father has suffered enough."

Mandos' brow furrowed and his stony grey gaze moved from the Prince's soul, to Thranduil's. "From the very beginning and from the first coupling you knew what you had done. Yet, you knowingly pulled your son into the same fate. You knew you would both be judged before the eyes of the Valar."

Thranduil sighed.

"Yes. We knew what we had done and still did, for we could not exist without the presence of the other." What he said was essentially 'I need to touch him to survive lol' but Thranduil could think of no better way. He was weary, and no pain he'd felt before was compared to what now existed within. Just the thought of being apart from Legolas forever was enough to make him beg for eternal death and never to take conscious thought again.

"Though you may offer us bodies to live in, I must ask of you to let us die if we cannot be with each other. A life of such suffering is... not one I would want for myself nor my son." Thranduil's need to reach and close the distance between him and Legolas was greater now - he wanted to stroke his hair gently and whisper soft words of comfort before they both faded from the world.

 

Mandos narrowed his eyes, sensing completely what Thranduil wanted and finding it strangely touching. Here were two beings who only wished for the arms of each other, and quite plainly would live for nothing more. Thranduil was a King of course, one of glamor and prestige who would live with people serving and adoring him. Legolas was one of adventurous spirit and unending curiosity, with a strong will and physical strength to match.

The Vala thought to himself - surely they did not deserve to live in a tortured state forever? Folks like Fëanor deserved such things, not this Elvenking and his little prince.

It was next to impossible to read the Vala's eyes, his face hard, but brow furrowed in thought. Neither had been thrown into the void just yet, and that gave Legolas hope that perhaps the Doomsman would be kind and merciful to their situation. Surely the Valar had felt love as Elves did, as Men, and many creatures of Arda. Surely he would understand. At least, that is what the Prince hoped for. More than anything.

It felt like forever to Legolas before the booming voice of Mandos sounded once again. "Bodies anew I shall grant each of you, but you shall not be separate. There are Elves here, and Men who require a sentence from me, who have committed atrocities far worse than the love you share with your son, Thranduil Oropherion."

Legolas could hardly believe his ears, fearing he had misheard the Vala's sentence. He had long for his father's touch, to see his face, beautiful and unmarred again, to be held in his strong arms and to be surrounded by his loving and comforting embrace.

Before either elf could say a word, Mandos had closed his hand around them both. When he opened it, the spirits had formed into elven bodies in relatively stable condition. Legolas was as he'd always been, eyes bright blue and hair flaxen gold. Thranduil was also how he had been, body restored to its state as it was at the beginning of the Third Age. For though Mandos had forgiven their acts together, there was still some err in the Elvenking's ways. As such, he still only had half his sight but at least he was not a burning skeleton. His eyes were naturally grey-green, and hair a mixture of silver and blonde. He no longer looked close to death, a greyish white whisper of an elf about to fade.

Mandos threw the two elves into the air, a dark portal on the ceiling swallowing them up. And the lands of Aman welcomed them, the softness of grass and warmth of golden sunlight the first things to be experienced upon rebirth. Thranduil lay beside his son, with the most stupid smile on his face. Had Legolas reached to his father's mind, he would have heard a joyous " _Hell yeah!"_

The rebirth had been a shock to Legolas' system. The cold, dark, emptiness of Mandos' Halls transitioned swiftly into the warm sunlight and soft grass. Anor was bright and felt almost too close in these lands and Legolas reached out towards the sky to grasp at it, testing his new fingers. There were no aches, no pains, and he rolled over slightly to see his father grinning up at him. He reached out now to touch the King's face, running his fingertips over his lips, the bridge of his nose. Thranduil was whole again, as whole and glorious and beautiful as he had ever been.

 

He sat up slowly, stretching like a cat and relishing in the warmth. His mind threatened to go to Mirkwood, to how they ended up here, but he refused to let his mind go to dark thoughts right now. The beauty surrounding him was surreal, unreal, and that he was able to share it with his father made it more special. They would remain here forever, untouched by evil, and nothing could separate them.

 

"It is even more lovely than I had ever dreamt it could be..."

"It is so because we share this world with each other." said Thranduil, sitting up beside his son. His fingers trailed through the grass, eyes squinting a little in the golden sunlight. This place was new, and he had no idea where they were. But he could sense the presence of strong magic and many elves all around - forests, mountains, coastlines... Everything existed here, free of darkness and torment.

Thranduil leaned to the side and wrapped his arms around Legolas, glad to feel his son in his arms once more.

"Here we may stay and live in peace for all eternity. Shall we go find somewhere?" he didn't know if there were houses of caves, but looked forward to finding a little civilisation of elves and living amongst them just as things had been in the early second age. Maybe he would find his beloved wife, and father, and the few friends he had seen die.

Legolas could hear the calling of the gulls as they flew overhead towards the shore. Even though it was far from there, the Prince's incredibly keen senses picked up the salty scent of the ocean and the shore. When he stopped to listen he could hear the crash of the waves on the sand. Everything indeed existed here, though far more contained than in the lands Legolas had once called home. Anything he could want was here... everyone he wanted, was here. He smiled at Thranduil and leaned against the King, closing his eyes for a moment as his face turned towards the sun." He stood there, eager to explore. Surely there were many here of great magic and power. Thranduil had told him many stories as a child, and Legolas excitedly wondered to himself if he would have the opportunity to meet with those who he had considered heroes as an Elfing.

"Anywhere... everywhere. I want to explore it all."

Gil-galad? Ecthelion? Then, thoughts of excitement and hope slowly turned into a strange sadness and doubt. His mother would be here. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her? Memories of her face had long faded from Legolas' mind.

Legolas' brow furrowed, a sadness darkening his fair features. "Do you think she shall recognize me, if we find her?" The Prince needn't even name the one he spoke of.

"Of course she will recognise you." Thranduil moved to gaze into his son's eyes, and smiled warmly. "She loved you more than anything, more than life. How can she not recognise her own son, one as bright and fair as you?" His hands came to cup Legolas's face and gently squeeze his cheeks, a slightly pink tint coming from where he touched and taking over any sign of sadness that was displayed there. "Smile, iôn nín. Nothing can go wrong ever again."

 

 

Thranduil had no clue just how wrong he could be.

 

He took Legolas in hand and they walked, in one direction to the West. There was an elven presence quite strongly there, and Thranduil felt almost drawn to it. Forests and grand shimmering lakes came into view, and almost immediately the sound of light voices and laughter could be heard in the distance. Here there were Sindar and Silvan alike, no sign of the Noldor just yet. Though in these lands all were alike in species, the different elven kin preferred to keep to themselves. At least there were no wars yet - remnants of the last battle on Arda could be seen in the many Silvan who had died for Thranduil coming to life, and meeting their friends. Rebirth was all around them, and it was a thing of beauty.

 

Thranduil kept his one good eye peeled for his own most beloved wife. Her starlit gaze and long blonde hair were all he sought in the crowds, though there were many elves clamouring for his and Legolas's attention. He just smiled thinly and kept looking. His people, important as they were, could wait. What he didn't know was that here was something of a recreation of Doriath, every Silvan and Sindar - even some Nandor - living here without sign of a King for millennia. Oropher was nowhere to be seen and neither was Thingol, but Thranduil still sought his queen.

Legolas was surprised how Valinor had already begun to feel like home. The transition into this world was easier than he had imagined for there were some Elves he recognized, guards and servants and his kin who had perished in battle with their Prince and King. More seemed to recognize Thranduil, who had lived many more centuries longer than his son. They were all vying for the attention of the royals who, Legolas realized in the back of his mind, were rulers of no land in particular. What was once Mirkwood was now ash and dust.

 

There was a peace and beauty that surrounded them now as they moved through the bustling crowd, as if all who surrounded them had come to see the new arrivals. And for many, they had. To lay eyes upon the Prince and King of a realm once great and strong was to experience true happiness for many, who had been without a ruler for countless years.

 

Many called out Thranduil's name, some elves he had never seen before reached for Legolas' hands, and the Prince's keen blue eyes scanned the crowd, still quite unsure about it all. It had been a millennia and then some since he had seen his mother. He had long since grown and he feared that he would be a foreigner in her eyes. He had lived so long without her, Thranduil having served the role of two parents for as long as Legolas could remember.

 

 

 

\---

 

In Valinor there was no concept of time for the Elves who had dwelt here. Days were months were years were centuries. It was truly difficult to say, for time passed in the blink of an eye for the Eldar. It felt quite different for those granted the gift of Rebirth.

 

Liliel had pined away for her lost son day after day, having even go so far as to curse the very Valar who sent her to Aman alone. Legolas had been her star, her everything, the one light in her life of a loveless marriage. Her husband Thranduil had been of noble blood and status, and it had been the Sindar's wickedly handsome looks and the wealth his family carried that had attracted her to him in the first place. Having not been of noble blood, Thranduil had been enraptured by the beautiful Elf maid and soon they married. She knew deep within that her husband had always loved her and held her in the utmost regard. Her feelings did not change towards him, however, even after Legolas' birth, and their son soon became the light that had been gone from her eyes and her heart.

 

She had given her life for Legolas at the end of all things, braver and wilder than many ellyth, and sacrificed herself to protect her precious child from flame and smoke. Liliel could not even recall the pain she felt at death when she awaited judgment in the Halls of Mandos, and had spent each waking moment looking for her son, for her Legolas, whom she was taken from so soon. Thranduil and Legolas had never come to Valinor, and a selfish part of Liliel prayed that Legolas might sail one day back into her arms. But after many seasons he never came.

 

Liliel kept to herself in Valinor, fixated on Legolas, wondering if she would ever see him again. She would wander aimlessly, searching, but with no avail. Today was a strange day, a different day, and many elves from her long-ago home of Mirkwood were granted Rebirth. There was an unusual crowd forming amongst her kind, when she went to investigate, there were murmurs of names that she could not quite make out from Elves that were unfamiliar to her.

 

In the center, amongst the chaos and the crowds, stood two fair Elves, one taller than the other, her kin gazing at them as though they were two stars in the sky. The blue eyes the younger one had were so familiar, so like her own. Her heart stopped, and then skipped a beat or two. Liliel pushed her way through the Elves that separated them, her slender body trembling, clothed in a gown of pure white starlight, her golden hair the sun that was twisted and braided carefully down her back. She knew these Elves. She had hoped beyond hope and prayed that her memory did not deceive her... that her eyes had not.

 

"Legolas!" She called through the crowd, her voice wavering.

 

Thranduil felt as if he had walked into a village of elves he had known and would know, a mix of his own people and those he'd never seen before. The general consensus he got was that neither Oropher nor Thingol had chosen to rule over the Sindar here, and everyone was free yet without leadership. The crowds were a lively, pleasing thing and Thranduil actually smiled to those he recognised. Knights of old bent without sword, servants of the past millennia bowed their heads to him. Thranduil was just about to ask for a search party for his wife and maybe a glass of wine when he heard her voice.

 

She called for their son, not him; that was understandable for the love a mother held for her child was something Thranduil knew and respected. But he loved and had grieved for his wife so terribly it had changed him as a person. Hell, one of the reasons he loved looking into Legolas's eyes were that lust-darkened, they held a sparkle like two beautiful stars in a sea of black. Just like Liliel.

Thranduil had lived the days after his wife's death in dark sorrow like death itself refused to take him until the siege against Mirkwood. Now he could see her, like a golden beacon of all he had wanted in his whole life.

"Liliel..." he murmured, lips barely moving and eyes wide.

Legolas caught a single voice, strangely familiar, slightly musical, that traveled amongst the loud chatter of the elves surround him. The crowd parted by those who knew the former Queen of Mirkwood, and this was a sight to behold indeed for those who understood her story, though anyone who had lost a child and had been waiting for them to be Reborn was certain to understand. The elves separating them parted in the center to create a path for Liliel and her family.

Her eyes sparkled like sapphires as she had a full look at the Prince, so strong and so handsome and so... grown. Beside him was her husband in all his glory, the father of her precious star. It was not that she hated the Sindar Elf of course, for he had always been nothing but good to her, had given her everything, helped create their son. The love they shared for each other was just... different. But Liliel never dared to tell him that. She practically glided to Legolas and wrapped her slender arms around him, holding him tightly to her, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "My sweet son..."

A delicate hand reached to touch Thranduil's cheek and she pressed her lips to the Prince's forehead. "I have been waiting so long..."

Thranduil smiled warmly towards her, an unexpected feeling growing within as he laid eyes upon the one he had mourned for the last 3500 years of his life.

"You shall wait no longer, for we have arrived." said he, moving to pull her into a tight hug. She felt as she always did, albeit a little colder and.. strangely distant. Ah, it was probably the shock of being brought from death, that was how the King rationalised the odd chills that ran down his spine.

"Tell me, meleth nín... How have you fared all these years? I have missed you terribly." Thranduil said, hoping Legolas didn't feel jealousy at having his father call someone _else_ his lover.

In truth, Legolas did not know how he felt at this very moment as the Elf who was his mother embraced him. He looked down at her, wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders. The memory he retained of her face before she was consumed by flame was hazy, but the closer he looked the more he saw of himself in her. Yes, this was her. Of course he was happy to see her, but she had left this world long ago, and there were many times Legolas had even forgotten about her, as heartless as it sounded. She had only been around for a blink of an eye in his short life, and though she had risked her life so that her child might live, Legolas did not share many memories with her.

 

He knew deep in his heart that Thranduil had always longed for her. Even as a child, he remembered how changed Thranduil had been following her death. But now, here he stood, his father's lover with Thranduil's true love. It was, to say the least, slightly uncomfortable. Legolas said not a word, however, and let Thranduil and Liliel have their moments together. If she knew all that had happened... Legolas feared what might become of everything. What would she think? Now that they were together again, would Thranduil toss him aside for the one love that was so long lost but found again?

"Mother..." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and stepped aside as Thranduil embraced her.

Liliel smiled at her beautiful son, her blue eye bright with tears and she held the King tightly. "I have... fared, as you can see. I have been looking for my family, hoping, praying, every time a ship docked. But there was no sign of you both. I truly was fearing that I would never see you again."

She touched Legolas' cheek with a hand, the other cupping Thranduil's as she looked at them both, before her gaze rested on the King's face. "He is so grown, Thranduil... he looks so much like you. I have no doubt he has made you so proud all of these years..."

"Indeed he has. Brave and stubborn, he has kept me alive all these years." said Thranduil, leaning into Liliel's touch. Her hands were so gentle and slim, he often thought what it would feel like to be caressed by her once more. For a moment he closed his eyes, then opened them properly to take a good look at her.

 

They had never had much of a romantic life together, though Thranduil did feel some desire as he gazed upon her form. He looked her up and down, a light smile curling at his lips.

"I do hope you haven't been too lonely here without us."

Liliel's full lips curved into a smile, though her eyes held no desire even when she saw that familiar flicker in the King's eyes. She knew Thranduil's meeting immediately and her cheeks flushed at the double meaning implied in her husband's words. In front of Legolas, no less. The grown Elf before her, several millennia old, was still a child in her eyes. She shied away slightly from the question and reached to take Legolas' hand in her own, taking Thranduil's in the other.

 

"I shall be lonely no longer. There is only peace here..." She told her husband and son. "Now, I shall be nothing but happy."

 

Legolas allowed Liliel to guide them as they walked, some Elves in the crowd that still surrounded them wiping away tears of joy at the reunion of mother and son. Oh, how Liliel had pined for her dear Legolas, her sun and stars.

Thranduil held his head high as they walked, looking proud that at least he'd managed to get something right in his life. His beloved wife and son were by his side, they were in the land of eternal peace, and nothing could go wrong ever again. In time he would go on adventures to explore these lands, of forests here and rivers there. To meet old friends, see how his father was doing, maybe rule a small bit of woodlands.. Yes, there was time for that. Thranduil let himself be lead along with Legolas by Liliel, happy to go for now wherever he was taken. Their people parted and a path was revealed, through faces both smiling and teary.

Legolas followed alongside his mother, Thranduil flanking her other side as she led them. To where, he had no idea, but he could only imagine each part of Valinor was more lovely than the last. From the sound and smell of it all, she was leading them south, towards the sea. The calls of the gulls got louder as they drew near, and the crashing of the waves was peaceful. He glanced briefly at his father, who seemed proud and happier than he had remembered him. Perhaps things were truly changing. It was something he would have to accept, no matter how difficult it was.

Liliel had indeed led them towards the beaches, the shores of Eldamar. The golden sands were dotted with gems and pearls of whites, blues, greens, and reds. Each small jewel was almost blinding to look at, as the brilliance of the sun reflected off it so. The waves crashed onto the shore, and it was the first time in many centuries that Legolas had laid eyes upon the shores.

She smiled at her son and released his hand. Legolas had always been one to travel and wander, and so that happened now. She allowed him to go, watching as the Prince kicked off his boots and made his way down the shores, allowing the water to lap at his ankles. Lillel recalled fondly at the way she and Thranduil had to concoct so many strange barriers for him when he was small, to prevent him from falling from the trees. He loved to climb and sometimes they were unable to find him for hours at a time.

"He always had such an adventuring heart..." She said softly to herself more than to her husband at her side. "So unlike his father."

"That's not a bad thing, is it?" he asked quietly, glancing to Liliel before turning his attention back to Legolas. So many sparkling, beautiful things came to his vision now but all he really wished was to gaze upon his son. His wife seemed different to how he remembered her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. What he did put his fingers on was her head, gently running his hand through her hair. So soft and fluffy it was, he almost wished to have it as a scare around his neck in winter. Ah, but there were no seasons in Aman. It was always eternally spring, full of life, flowers and perfect weather. It was good for the elves, who were not made to endure hot summers and freezing winters.

Liliel smiled softly as she watched, turning her head to gaze at her husband. Age had only made him more handsome. He was so like what she had remembered him being, proud, kind, and wise. There was something about him, though. A darkness that hung over his head. Thranduil had the habit of holding onto memories both good and bad over the course of centuries. She had no doubt he had suffered much these past few millennia, but did not inquire.

"Perhaps not."

Her blue gaze followed Thranduil's back to Legolas as his image slowly grew smaller and smaller as he walked further down the shoreline. "Legolas has long been an elf grown..." Liliel longed to watch her son grow up, to learn about the world. But now she would only be able to rely on stories told and imagine that she had been there in his life. "Did he bond? Did he follow his heart and travel Arda? Thranduil... I do not know our son anymore." There was a sadness in her voice, regret, and longing that she could not hide.

"He did travel, yes. No doubt you have heard that he was one of the saviours of Middle-earth, part of the Fellowship of the Ring. He helped to destroy Sauron... and other things." There was communication in Aman between the Valar and the Elves, telling of serious matters both good and bad happening in Arda. Some could even show visions of what was going on, should anyone wish to check on the state of the world.

"As for bonding.." Thranduil's eyes became unfocused, white as the sand beneath his feet as he gazed into the distance. "Maybe he did, maybe he did not. You might want to ask him." And he said nothing further of the matter, other than asking a different question.

"Did you?"

Thranduil actually felt glad that he knew their son better than Liliel did - it made him feel closer to Legolas, with a certain degree of control. However he did not let it show on his face, which remained as calm and placid as ever.

Liliel had indeed heard, though she had never taken part in the visions. It was too painful to hear of the happenings in Arda with naught to do save for sit back and watch it all happen. She had always hated a lack of control. She had been so proud of Legolas, when word passed of his joining a Fellowship. He had grown up to be so selfless and so very brave, much like Thranduil had been.

She noticed the sudden sense of quiet as her husband spoke his next words, oddly avoiding her questions. She was observant but paid it no mind. Perhaps he just did not know Legolas as well as she had thought.

Liliel gave Thranduil a sideways glance at his next question. "Of course not..." She admitted, almost repulsed. Liliel had never bonded to her husband, but when she came to Aman she had many suitors who had courted her. Few were aware that her marriage had not resulted in a bonding that was commonplace amongst Elves.

"Did you?" Liliel knew that she had not fulfilled every duty as Thranduil's wife. They had produced an heir but she knew she never truly fulfilled every desire her husband had for her. She could not be offended if he had bonded, for they had been separated for many years.

"Not officially, no." Thranduil folded his hands behind his back, watching the calming ebb and flow of the sea. He knew Nandor elves loved water and came here often, and looked to his wife to observe her. She seemed like she belonged here, where the waves could wash all sorrows away and their family could find peace.

"I have always held you in my heart, Liliel." he said softly, moving to hold her close with an arm around her waist by the side. "No matter how many lovers I would take here and there."

 

Thranduil wondered what he should do. The Valar accepted his union with Legolas, and that had been sustained through many trials of corruption, lust and love. If Liliel found out, they would both be rather screwed. Hell, what might Oropher think if he found his son had created a little tradition of incest amongst their family and gotten away with it? Thranduil did think those of his blood could not be anything other than absolutely perfect - naturally, he now chose Legolas over his wife. A slight smile curved his lips as he thought of his son. If Legolas checked in at their connection this very moment, he could perhaps see a reflection of himself held in high esteem, above all else.

Liliel tilted her golden head slightly, resting the crown of it on Thranduil's shoulder. He was a head taller than she, and the elleth found that she took comfort in the strong arm around her waist. The sun was warm and her son was alive and well before her. She was reunited with her family again, and all was well. The Valar were good to her this time. She had finally been given what she had longer for for millennia. "I know..." She murmured softly.

Legolas had walked along the shore for quite sometime. His heart was comforted by the sea, the final destination of all Reborn. He was lucky enough now to be among them, and could hardly wait to explore this place, the huge island that would now be their new home. Here they could start anew, all cares and worries would be forgotten. There had been so much that had plagued his mind, but Galadriel's taint could not reach him here, the sickeningly sweet taste of orc blood in his throat had gone. Here, he would not have to worry about losing his father, his beloved one. Rolling up his leggings below his knees, Legolas allowed himself to step into the water, deeper and deeper, until it was at his waist. He cared not for the state of his clothes but reveled in briny tang in the air, the peacefulness of the waves as he bobbed up and down in the water. It washed any ill thoughts from his mind.

He reached then for Thranduil, as he often did, wishing to know his heart was still near. He could feel warmth and pride exuding from the King and he smiled, eyes closing as he turned his face to the sun.

 _"Enjoying yourself?"_ Thranduil smiled as he watched Legolas, knowing the ocean here was kind and safe where anyone could go for a swim and not worry about being drowned. " _Next time I would recommend you take off your clothes.. You look much better nude."_

Thranduil almost wished to join him, but wanted to keep his kingly demeanour about. Here there were no monarchs but him, apparently. Somehow it felt wrong to claim lordship over all these free peoples; it did not seem like a good idea. Still, he wanted to keep up appearances and be treated with respect. Some of his servants and guard probably preferred staying by their king's side than complete freedom, in all honesty.

"Tell me, my queen.." Thranduil whispered gently "What is life like around here...? Have the folks treated you right in my absence?"

 _"I do not think my mother would take to your leering after me as I bare myself to the world and the sea."_ came a snide reply from Legolas. " _And are you implying that I do not look good clothed?"_ Legolas chuckled to himself and submerged himself in the salty water.

Liliel wrapped a slender arm around her husband's waist as they walked slowly in Legolas' direction, with no true destination in particular. "It is peaceful, my husband." She said softly. "All are welcomed here... there is no bloodshed, not heartache. All that was wished of Arda is found here. Everything that it was lacking. You will not be disappointed."

She nodded her head. "Many still treat me as the Queen I once was..." Liliel had quite liked it, too. She relished being worshipped, respected as a royal. She was always graceful in her rule alongside Thranduil, and well loved by everyone. "But I know many have also longed for a King." She looked up at him. "They have not seen a ruler in many moons."

"What of Thingol and my father?" Thranduil asked, wondering why the two most majestic figures in all of Arda (excluding himself) had not taken to rule over the Sindar here. All the woodelven kin here sought peaceful and structured lives, with many having no motivation on what to do amongst the idyllic landscapes of Aman. Oropher had forced himself into a meditative state from the grief he felt upon knowing his son suffered after his death, and Thingol wished for nothing more than to spend eternity in the arms of his lover Melian.

"Surely there are others who rule in these lands? I daresay after the massacre in Mirkwood nobody will look to me as a leader any longer..."

"They do not desire to rule..." Liliel said softly, matter of factly. She had heard rumors of a shadow growing in Lorien many months past. When it all came to fruition elves began to pour in from the Halls of Mandos, those fighting for the King and serving under his stead. The woodland realm here in Aman had rejoiced for the coming of mates, friends, and family members, but all of the Fair Folk despaired at the fate of Arda.

She frowned, concerned as she looked to Thranduil for clarification. She had not known these details. A massacre... A slaughter of her kin. It made rage boil inside her veins.

"They love your regardless of it all. Do you not hear them chanting for you, reaching for your hand as they pass?"

"Somehow, I feel I am not worthy.." he sighed, "I stayed hidden for too long. Galadriel burnt us all to the ground and Legolas stayed by my side, willing to die with me... Elrond called me a coward. So many died that day, and we didn't change a thing."

Such a defeatist attitude was rather unbecoming of the Elvenking, but the burning of Mirkwood had left a mark on his soul irreparable by all things but time. He blamed himself every time he thought of those dead, the screams and flame.. All because he had hidden. Because he was not brave enough. Because he was not as reckless as his father, yet died anyway.

Thranduil looked away, gaze vacant. At this moment, he wanted to be held and told it was all okay. Even though he knew it was not, it would still be nice to have the illusion of lifted blame.

Liliel could not help but feel pity for the elf before her. Thranduil was clearly haunted by the recent past. She felt for him, truly she did. Reaching down to wrap a small handle around the King's she squeezed it, and for a time said nothing at all. Legolas was returning to them now, barefooted and clothes dripping. She smiled at her son, glad for his presence and hoping he might lift the King's mood for she knew she could not. There was a strange unspoken rift between them that Liliel was unsure as to how she would remedy it.

 

"Did you enjoy your swim, my Prince?"

 

Legolas smiled, looking to Liliel. "Aye, the water was lovely. You should have both joined." He looked to Thranduil, immediately recognizing a worried brow. He reached to press a hand to Thranduil's forearm, squeezing gently. "The sea does the body good." Legolas knew exactly what the King needed without speaking. Validation. And Legolas intended on giving it to him.

Thranduil smiled faintly towards his son, purposefully clouding his own mind so as not to worry him.

"Perhaps I shall take a dip later on, when everything has settled. It would do us well to find a place to stay first.." He didn't want to get his clothes wet, always preferring to swim while nude with a warm towel nearby for when he needed it. He found his thoughts drifting to the vast, expansive wardrobe he'd had back home, along with all the treasures now lying unguarded. With a heavy sigh, Thranduil realised that many things would have to be remade, and all manner of clothes he would hopefully have to choose from once more. After all, he was a King who loved to look fabulous. And wherever they decided to live, Thranduil hoped he'd own the place and be happy with what they had. Much had been lost, but here they could rebuild.

"Oh, your clothes are wet. I do hope you don't feel too uncomfortable like that." Thranduil flicked one of Legolas's braids fondly and observed the way the Prince's clothes stuck to his body, making sure not to stare for too long.

Liliel knew that her husband was likely incredibly concerned with his state of dress or lack thereof at the moment. He was used to a finer, more opulent lifestyle. Have just been Reborn, one often did not have a full wardrobe waiting for them. "I have dwelt in a village on the westernmost shore. There are many of our kind there who would welcome a King and Prince. There are Silvan and Sindar... the Noldor tend to keep to themselves in the east." She knew Thranduil was not overly fond of the Noldor.

 

A place to call home was what Legolas wanted now. Then he would allow his heart to take him to where he wished to wander. Though he had never truly liked being kept behind the palace walls of Mirkwood, it had been comforting knowing that there was always home, and his father, to go to. Now that Mirkwood was long gone, they would have to rebuild anew. He wondered what it would mean for all of them. The family dynamic had shifted, and Legolas was long grown. He had ruled beside his father in his mother's stead, though they were not bonded mates. He had taken on quite a bit of responsibility, even ruling in Thranduil's stead for a time when it was required of him. But now, if they wished for the life that once was, they would have to find their servants, their guards. Legolas wondered where Galion was... if he had survived or if he had also been reborn.

 

He caught Thranduil staring and gave him a sharp look despite the fact that he secretly loved it. It was too dangerous right now. When they were alone, they would need to talk about all of this. This was no place for mind speech, for some part of Legolas felt that Liliel would be able to hear them.

Legolas' fair brow furrowed. "I am certain I will survive, Adar. I did not melt the moments my clothes touched the sea." He laughed to himself, for he knew Thranduil would have fussed if Legolas had pulled him into the sea fully clothed. It was certainly not regal or refined, but Legolas had never truly cared about those things. He looked at Liliel now as he wrung out his soaking wet golden hair with his hands, flinging it over his shoulder and making certain that he sprayed Thranduil's face with the rogue droplets in the process and a wicked grin. "I imagine Adar would prefer to be amongst his own. Out of habit, I believe I would as well."

Thranduil's face twitched as light droplets touched upon his skin, and he slowly turned his face up to the sun to dry them off.

"I do agree with living amongst our people. Where this village you speak of resides, we shall go and have a look." he said simply, a light golden glow taking to his skin as he absorbed the sunlight. Ah, the air here was so fresh it almost made his halls back home seem like goblin caves. Though he could never go back, perhaps now he should start thinking of a new place he could call home. There would probably be no huge palace or lamplit hallways, that sort of thing being reserved for the Noldor in their huge fancy city just between the gap in the mountains.

Thranduil was after all Sindarin, of the kin who forsook the Great Journey upon sight of the beauty that was Beleriand in the First Age. There had been a wish not for greatness that came among those folk - rather, to live the simple life as it had been intended for the elves. Thranduil however was so used to grandeur and regality it would undoubtedly take some time to adjust. A few Valarian years perhaps?

Walking around didn't take too long here, as Thranduil felt himself renewed with such stamina and hope that any distance was hardly far enough to take in their glorious surroundings. The shore curved to the west in a point that formed a beach, with sand transitioning to light pastel green grass of all shades. The water was clear, and none too dark - warm and welcoming was the general feel of the whole place. Huts came into view as they walked, and even houses the elves had built to suit their own lifestyle. Curving walkways lined with thick shrubs and rare flowers lead through the village to the beach on one side (which was something of a collective meeting place for the elves) and on the other, the huge lake with tall trees all around where Thranduil and Legolas had seen the other Reborn.

There were other locations further north - the Valar had their own gardens and forests of immeasurable beauty, some in their city and some arranged in the West. In essence, wherever one looked in the village of the wood-elves, there was always something pleasing to gaze upon be it a carven staircase spiralling up a tree into someone's house, or a fair elf with shimmering hair and a bright smile running along the beach with their friends.

Thranduil looked around, and heard a few gasps of the keen-eyed elves who caught sight of the new arrivals. This seemed alright, so far. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a derptastic map. Here. http://s18.postimg.org/xj5ss44i1/valinor_lmao.jpg  
> 


	13. 4-2 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new home and feels on the horizon.

 Liliel led Thranduil and Legolas towards the huts that housed a number of Sindar and Silvan elves, a humble collection of huts that were both beautiful and comfortable. There was nothing very extraordinary here, and she had settled on a particular hut surrounded by flowers of deep reds and purples, dark bushes and a beautiful winding stone path that led to a door that had been carved to denote her status. Her home overlooked the sea, in hopes of catching the sights of ships sailing in before they reached the docks at the southern part of the island. She swept a slender hand towards her home. "And this.... this is my humble abode. It is small... I believe it would be quite cramped for three."

She smiled at it, looking at Legolas now. "Here, one can fall asleep to the crashing of the waves and wake up to the calling of the gulls. It is peaceful here, Legolas. So very peaceful." She looked to her husband, wondering his thoughts. It was certainly no palace, though he had gathered a small crowd of elves who recognized him and bowed deeply, showing their respect. It had always been quiet here, for as long as she could remember. And Liliel had learned to like it.

Legolas found the whole little village to be quite charming. Everything and everyone seemed so closely knit. It was such a change from Mirkwood, for there were no trees quite as tall, thick, and dark as the ones that had grown their for many millennia as the city had grown. The sun shone bright each day and Legolas was certain that the stars would be quite easy to see each night. He imagined laying on the warm sand of the beach as the waves crashed in his ear, as he stared up at the starry sky. Thranduil would be lying beside him and Legolas would describe each constellation in great detail as he once had as a child.

"I think it is beautiful, Nana..." Legolas said, smiling. "I daresay Adar would want to crowd you out of your own home, though..." Unless he wished to live with Liliel, of course, and then Legolas would have to seek out his own abode. He could not remember the last time that he and his father had lively nearby and not slept in the same bed.

"Perhaps a larger accommodation may suit. That or I shall have to find a little place of my own, as I'm sure you two wouldn't want to be separated at all." said Thranduil, speaking to Liliel while acknowledging the folk nearby. Many gazed at him and he could feel reverence, adoration and awe. Not one held him at fault for anything that had happened, even though he felt it should be rightfully so. The surroundings were quite pleasant, and Thranduil would not have minded at all taking a little place to live while assuming a position of leadership among these elves. However the matter of who he lived with was contestable - did he sneak away with his beloved son, or rule beside his long lost queen?

He turned to Legolas, a gentle smile on his face. "I believe you are the treasure neither of us wants to let go, iôn nín. Would you like to stay with your mother, or live with me? I am sure we would not want to take up too much room..." he then glanced to Liliel, who knew of her husband's lavish lifestyle and fondness of grand, fancy things. He was the type to have a bedroom big enough for several mirrors and couches, able to hold a party there if he so wished. An office with ornate geek and chair, long dining table fit for feasts or council... The list went on. The simple life was much too different for the King's liking.

 _"Worry not, my precious. If you wish to live with your mother I may seek my father and see where he resides. I'm sure he will gladly take me."_ His smile remained, eyes not revealing anything other than polite pleasantness. One who knew him could tell it was the utmost fakery of emotion, yet to keep up appearances to all those around it would do nicely. Thranduil looked rather handsome and charming with this particular smile - when he pulled it in court before foreign dignities, it almost always gathered a few swoons. He hoped Liliel didn't see through it - suspicion would certainly arise.

Liliel looked up at Legolas hopefully, hoping beyond hope that her son would choose her. It had been so long and she had missed him so very terribly. All would be right in her world if she could wake up and see Legolas, fall asleep knowing he was safe and happy. However, if he chose to be on his own or to live with her husband, that was fine by her too. Her precious Prince was close by now, safe and sound, and she would never lose him again. She looked at Thranduil, her beautiful lips curving into a frown and her brow furrowing slightly. She could see right through that little smile he gave. In fact, it was one he had used on her many times before when they were both alive and in Arda. It had made her swoon once or twice before but now she wondered at it and wondered what he was getting at.

Legolas, on the other hand, was completely torn. The idea of being separated from his beloved father was almost too much to bear, even if he was in walking distance. However, he saw the look of hope in Liliel's blue eyes and would hate to disappoint her. Perhaps it was best, though, that Thranduil live here. Liliel was Thranduil's wife and his father's wife. It would be important to save face and to be honest, Legolas had always been curious about a place of his own. Visits would have to be planned out carefully in either case, for Thranduil to visit Legolas and vice versa.

_"Please, do not make me decide. Perhaps it is best if you stay with Nana, Adar... You *are* husband and wife after all. I know this is not the lifestyle you sought but... surely she wishes to be with you."_

Thranduil now kept his smile more to force his own heart to feel glazed over and fine, as if caged in thin glass that Legolas couldn't poke at without it breaking. How he ached to let his son go, feeling as if he was sending his darling Prince away to live in his own little kingdom of isolation. That was Thranduil's favoured situation - living on his own, or with folk who wouldn't bother him unless needed. He loved Liliel and knew she was a high-maintenance elleth, almost as much as himself. But Legolas was also in the contest for his complete and utter adoration - having been there for him longer than Liliel ever had. Legolas was quite a handful, but Thranduil was more than willing to take care of him for the rest of his life. They were of the same blood, same flesh and even similar stature. They _belonged_ together.

Now the decision had been forced back upon him, as he could see Legolas was unwilling to answer.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to seek a life of your own, if you wish. Valar knows you've been living in the shadow of your family ever since... If you seek to spread your wings a little, I will not hinder your flight."

_"I just hope I do not die without you."_

Thranduil hoped he had said the right thing, trusting his natural eloquence to deal with this matter where he really wanted to build an extra level atop Liliel's house so they could all live under the same roof. It was one or the other, and strangely enough the notion that he should live on his own had been tossed aside as if the only two things available were husband and wife, or father and son. Legolas's influence within his mind told him so.

"If we require more time for this decision, it is available.." he murmured, folding his hands behind his back much like how he acted when he was at court. Ah, to have his advisors nearby. What he wouldn't give for some of their wise words! He felt as if he was sending an army to war. Battle of the Feels indeed.

Legolas could see straight through his father's almost pained smile. It looked like his cheeks were almost twitching the king was trying so damned hard to show his son that he was fine with this decision. He loved Thranduil more than life itself, of course, but they would never be far from each other. In Legolas' mind, it simply did not make sense for him to stay with his mother, if it there were only two options on the table. There was a third, however, and one that he was not certain any would jump at openly: he and his father while Liliel remained alone. That would arouse more suspicion than anything else.

How desperately Legolas wanted a moment alone with Thranduil to explain things to him, hoping that his father did not take his desire to be on his own as a slight to him or their love for one another. For it was far from that, but the dynamics here were different. To be honest, Legolas did not like that one bit, but he understood that they needed to save face here, for it was their final destination and it would not do to turn heads in the wrong direction.

 _"Without me? If I were to remain here while you were on your own, it would be me without **you**. Can't you see this is the best option?"_ Legolas maintained a smile as well, and although it was forced and his cheeks were straining, he had learned a thing or two from his father about maintaining dignity and eloquence, when possible. The Prince was quite a bit more free-spirited than his father, and it took a lot more effort on Legolas' end to save face and not start arguing loudly with him. There was no need to bring his mother into this.

"I imagine we do not need to make such a great decision on such short notice without thinking everything over, Adar..." Legolas said carefully, gently, with the silver-tongue Thranduil had taught him. He also had honed, over many years, a way to speak to the King to manipulate him into getting his way. It almost always worked. Legolas reached out to chastely touch his father's cheek. "If it comes to that, I am certain we will still be so close so that it feels as though I am practically living under your roof."

Liliel watched Thranduil fall back into his old ways. Her husband had always been deeply loving and protective of their son, sometimes to a fault. Even more than she. It was strange though, that even now, after Legolas was grown, it seemed so difficult for her husband to let go. She nudged Thranduil gently in the side, clearing her throat. "There is no need to make such a decision now... For as many nights as you need to discuss this, there is enough room in my home for both of you."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for the accommodation." he spoke softly to Liliel with a respectful nod. "I am sure all we need is some time."

Legolas had played his cards right, and so far conflict had been avoided.

 Ah, to save face. To act as if he were just like everyone else, with a perfect family and noble bearing. Thranduil had been used to doing whatever he liked in his kingdom; yelling at his guards, ordering people around, never being as mindlessly cruel as Oropher but still having the whole place under control. Here, things were softer, more like a delicate pastry dusted with powdered sugar and filled with sweet cream. He could not bite too deeply, or all would spill and never be touched again. If he were to rule over anyone in Aman it would be through mutual respect and will to work together, as they would _choose_ him as their King and not just accept it as the way things were.

Thranduil was trying ever so hard to keep things together, his emotional state rather fragile as of the past two or so years. He didn't like to be outed as such, but in truth behind all his strength and harsh words he did have a tender heart spiked by pointed dramatical events far too often. Now he just wanted to seat himself upon a chaise lounge with his son on one hand and a glass of wine in the other, able to drown his cares in pleasant warmth. Thoughts of Legolas swept through his mind and settled in a comforting fantasy he held for himself only, of reassuring words and neverending affection. He had learnt this distraction technique millennia ago from his father, and to this day it served him well. His smile grew a little more natural looking, and his face relaxed.

"Shall we go inside? I am rather curious as to what your home looks like, meleth nín." he gazed at Liliel, though if Legolas took a look at the King's eyes it would be clear he was not really seeing. She hadn't dealt with Thranduil's blindness, and would probably think he was spacing out a little when his eyes unfocused. For his mind was in a different place, his heart with his son. He could not see unless he actually tried.

Now would have been quite a strange time if Legolas thought to check on their connection...

Legolas watched his father carefully as Liliel turned to lead them inside. While is father was quite skilled at maintaining an even demeanor when he wished, putting up a facade just so Legolas did not have to worry, the Prince could easily see through it now. Things were changing far more quickly than he was certain Thranduil liked. A whole new living arrangement, a new place to call home, and a lifestyle very humble and ordinary in comparison to the one he was so used to. And their situation was far from ordinary, to say the least. Although Mandos had been reluctantly accepting of their love, many Elves here were very traditional and to love within ones family was frowned upon almost as deeply as Kinslaying.

Needless to say, Legolas wanted more than to reach for his hand, to press a kiss to his lips, and reassure Thranduil that all was well, and that regardless of everything, he would be his one and only, and he would always be there for his father, as a friend, a son, and a lover. For now, he offered the warmth of his touch upon Thranduil's mind as he followed him inside. It was then that he pressed his hand to the small of his father's back, guiding him carefully as he had only just remembered that his mother had no knowledge of his father's injuries... of anything that had happened to him since the day she died. He wondered if Thranduil would tell her, or if she would notice at all.

Liliel's home was quaint yet lovely, a living room area with a fine sofa of silk bordered by a chaise on either side. The sweet scent of flowers was strong here, for Liliel loved all things that grew. These flowers that sat to take in the sun on large windowsills that overlooked the open and let in much natural light were of a rare variety that Legolas had never seen before. A wide hall opened up to a large bath on one side, a kitchenette overlooking more ocean, and one master bedroom with a smaller one feeding off of it. The master bedroom was elevated slightly from the ground with a clear view of the stars at night. Liliel always had fine taste, and while the layout was simple here, the quality of decor of the hut had a bit of a feel of Mirkwood on a very small scale. The colors of everything were of various deep greens and blues and whites of the ocean.

She swept her hand through the air as she led them inside. "It is by no means as extravagant as Mirkwood was, my husband, but it has suited me just fine all these years. What do you think?" She asked.

_"It is small, Adar... but it is comfortable, do you not think? It will be impossible to feel sadness in a place like this."_

Liliel turned back to her family, his lips curving into an excited grin. She felt so full of life now that Legolas and Thranduil were here with her. There was so much she wished to hear. "There is even a garden that overlooks the sea."

"It is quite pleasing to the senses, suitable for a relaxing life." said Thranduil softly, appreciating the natural feel and floral scents he took in from his new surroundings. It was a little too simple for his tastes but acceptable all the same, and Thranduil ran his fingers along the windowsill as was habit for him to map out new areas when he entered them.

"Mm, I do like how open and natural this all feels. Staying here with you wouldn't be a problem at all." he looked to Liliel and smiled just a little, something true and calming to grace his lips.

_"You know I do not like change.. But it's agreeable enough here. In time we shall see how things turn out, for nothing is ever truly permanent."_

Thranduil took a little time to wander, observing how nicely the colours blended together of soft silks and patterned brocades. His eyes flicked to where the edges of furniture were, not wanting to trip over anything even though there wasn't much clutter. The flowers nearby seemed to be paying attention to him and Legolas, having not seen any ellyn in this house before. From all that grew nearby, Thranduil could sense Liliel had been nearly in mourning for some time. Almost four thousand years she had pined for her son, maybe even wished her husband had died instead of her. The trees whispered outside and Thranduil took a deep breath, sighing it back out. He almost felt as if he were outside despite being in. There was connection here, and Legolas was right in a way when he'd mentioned sadness was nearly impossible when surrounded by so much... everything. The essence of all that was elven stood here in these lands, but Thranduil honestly would not feel complete without his son nearby.

Just the thought of sleeping in a bed without Legolas made his mind cringe, though it was quickly covered up as he directed his gaze out the window. Liliel was his beautiful wife who would hopefully give him what he desired if they were to sleep together. Comfort, love, maybe even sex.

Legolas could sense the heaviness in his father’s mind despite all the beauty and life that surrounded him. The Prince did not particularly like these changes either, but it is what had to be, at least for now. No, nothing was permanent, and he hoped Thranduil believed his own words. He wondered, briefly, where he would go. A place of his very own would be preferred if Thranduil was to steal away to visit. But it would be strange and deeply lonely without him. Something would be missing from his heart and his life and this is not what Legolas wished for at all.

 _"Nothing is permanent."_ He repeated back as he moved to another window, this one overlooking the small garden outside. Amongst the sand there was a rich patch of grass that allowed strange and beautiful shrubbery and flowers to grow. So unlike Middle Earth, and even less like Mirkwood. _"I know you realize how lonely I shall be without you. I cannot even recall the last time we slept in separate beds. It felt so long ago."_

Liliel knew full well based on Thranduil's polite reaction that her husband was not quite as taken with their living arrangements as she thought. It had been so many years since they had been together, and he was not quite the elf she remembered him being. Something was missing, and it was something she could not pick up.

Legolas had wandered back into the living room and sat down on a chaise with silken cushions of the deepest blue. The patterns and designs were rich and ornate, embroidered with gold thread. He grinned as he stretched like a cat. "I suppose I can always settle down here if I get too lonely and tired of spreading my wings on my own."

Liliel laughed. "You are always welcome to stay here, dear one. It is a small space, but there is always a place here for my son." She looked to Thranduil who seemed deep in thought again. "You have had such a heavy mind all this time that we have been together, my King..." Blue eyes peered at him curiously, trying to decipher what was going on. Liliel found Thranduil hard to read, even after all these years. Especially after all this time, rather. So much and changed. "This will not be such a bad life for you. Perhaps not everything you dreamed of in terms of magnificence and grandeur, but it is a place one can call a home, at the very least."

"I shan't complain." he said simply, keeping a pleasant and polite appearance with complete unreadability to his eyes. "These arrangements are well enough. My mind only seems heavy due to some odd weariness I have felt for some time..." Thranduil wasn't exactly lying; these talks caused slight stress to his mind and so much propriety took immense upkeep to maintain. He really had gotten far too used to blowing off foreign dignitaries with a dismissive hand wave and saying what he thought back in Mirkwood, without care for anything at all. Him, the Elvenking, being carefree. Such a thing was unbecoming but incredibly liberating. Now he had to be very careful not to upset his wife. Something in his mind told him it wouldn't be a good idea.

Walking in smooth strides he sat upon the chaise opposite Legolas, then took the same position lying down with an arm over his face as if he were a dramatic maiden swooning to the floor. Thranduil sighed, glad to rest even if just for a few moments.

 _"You and I shall have to discuss these arrangements soon... Preferably within our minds, tonight."_ he said to Legolas through their connection, which remained strong despite Thranduil's wavering concentration.

 _"When the sun goes down tonight and when the moon is high, we shall meet on the shore and discuss this a little deeper."_ Yes, there was much discussion that was required. Through their connection was truly the only safe way at this point. Their thoughts were private to each other, and none would be able to hear them. They would appear to just be standing and watching the stars together to anyone who passed by.

Liliel chuckled as Thranduil to a position opposite Legolas, and far more dramatic. Her husband always had a flair for drama. It is something that had always slightly annoyed her, for she did not fear getting her hands dirtied and had always been incredibly independent. It was where Legolas got most of his own personality from, though he had taken from his father as well in some regards. However, she was glad that things were as they once were. She had been alone for so long, had spent so much time in mourning. She moved into the small kitchen area to heat a pot of hot water for tea for herself, but came back into the room with a bottle of wine and three glasses which she sat on a nearby table. Uncorking the fine vintage, centuries old, the bottle had collected a thick coating of dust over the years. She began to fill the glasses with the crimson liquid. "Perhaps some wine then, to ease a troubled and heavy mind." She pressed a glass into Thranduil's hand, and then Legolas'. It seemed so strange seeing her son with a glass of wine in his hand. He had only recently been such a young one in her eyes, able to shoot a bow better than most before he could walk.

"I have been saving this bottle for this very occasion." That, and she knew her husband's fondness for wine.

"Ah, hannon le." Thranduil knew wine would ease his thoughts far better than anything else, and took a long sip from his glass. He'd not tasted anything like this before, and enjoyed the ancient fruitiness of it.

 _"If you wish to meet on the shore then we may do so."_ He glanced to Legolas, and thought he looked rather mature in such a position with a fine glass in his hand. The Prince really was no longer an elfling, something Thranduil was reminded of as he gazed at him now. He drew his eyes away so as not to arouse suspicion - staring at Legolas was one of his stranger and most favourite pastimes.

He drank, allowing his mind to sink into its usual haze of sweet warmth. Wine was something he could literally not do without - though he secretly feared being labeled an alcoholic if Liliel discovered just how much he'd grown to depend on the drink to keep his sanity. Only Galion could tell just how many barrels Thranduil went  through in a week, and with hope he would not have to spill the Elvenking's secrets to Liliel. She did after all seek outside information when Thranduil was too stubborn or unreadable - and oftentimes discovered things her husband preferred she wouldn't.

Thranduil would have to be careful. Liliel could be observant at the worst times and figure out secrets by putting two and two together. Where his eyes roamed, Thranduil would need to control. Valar knows what Liliel would do if she caught him staring at Legolas's butt. 

Legolas took a sip from his own glass. The wine was fruity and floral, and had a slight sweetness as he swallowed. It was finely aged. He raised a glass to Thranduil, and then to his mother, who raised hers. "To family." He said, and took another slow sip.

"To family." Liliel echoed with a smile. The daylight was slowly beginning to fade into a beautiful sunset of orange, pinks, and purples. The sky was more vibrant in color here, and the sun seemed so much closer. It was beginning to set, and Liliel's home had the most lovely view of it, for she had chosen her hut to be far enough away from the others so that she might have some privacy.

It was not long before Legolas polished off his wine and stood, kissing Liliel's cheek. "I suppose I shall go start searching for a place to stay." In truth he wanted out of there. He feared saying the wrong thing, being too disinterested in the entire situation and the mother he felt strangely distanced from. He figured she would want some alone time with Thranduil for it had been several millennia. "If I find nothing when the sun sets, I will return here for the evening and, perhaps will borrow a bed for the night." It felt so strange, not having his own bed. It would be stranger not sharing a bed with his father, his love.

Liliel smiled at Legolas and nodded. "You are always welcome, iôn nín."

_"Do not forget about me tonight."_

Thranduil had poured himself another glass, giving a nod towards Legolas as he left.

_"I could never forget you, Legolas. Fear not."_

Outside, there were elves wandering about - mostly the new folk who had been Reborn and were appearing every half hour or so. Many were discussing plans to build, to extend the village a bit to accommodate all the arrivals. Those who recognised Legolas inclined their heads in respect, but none approached him as he seemed rather busy. Interrupting anyone from the House of Oropher be it Prince or King was never a good idea.

 

Thranduil looked to Liliel after their son had left, a quiet look of contemplation on his face. With one hand he smoothed out his eyebrows and inadvertently fixed a wrinkle he never knew he had. Ah, he was frowning without knowing it. That often happened whenever Legolas left his presence. Had Thranduil a choice, he would glue himself to Legolas's back and stay attached to him forever. Such was his possessive nature.

He did not know what to speak of towards his wife, after it had been so long. They felt almost disconnected, and strange. So he gazed at her, the slightly blurred vision just a little clearer than it had been the last time they had seen each other. This time there were no screams nor flames, but still a great gaping chasm could be felt between them.

Legolas took a deep breath of the salty sea air, and watched the sunset for a moment before he moved through the crowds of elves. Frankly, the Prince sometimes despised others treating him as though he were some sort of delicate creature that was not to be touched or spoken to. Sometimes, Legolas wished that someone would just bother him. Thranduil had made it clear from an early age that Legolas was to be respected, and to some extent, the Prince himself agreed, but he recalled all of those he had met along the way traveling with the Fellowship. He was not bowed down to like a Prince... he was respected and well-liked for the deeds he had done during that time, not because he wore a crown on his head or was so easily recognizable as the Elvenking's son. So was life, and Legolas was not sure this would ever change. He wandered down the shore for now, only casually glancing at nearby villages. Perhaps a home would find him. Or perhaps he would wander until his heart's content. Either way, he made certain to keep an eye on the sun, knowing to head back when it was dark and the sun had departed in favor of the moon's silver light.

Thranduil was quiet, very soft-spoken, and this was so unlike the elf she had remembered marrying and fathering their child. Liliel took a sip from her wine and watched him for a long moment. Surely Galion would have arrived soon after and she knew she could always count on him to help explain the workings of her husband's mind, which she never truly had understood. Even now though, there was a chasm between them that she felt as well. The silence was uncomfortable, and for a time she sat next to him, unsure of what to say. Finally, when she did, she had been looking at him for quite some time.

"This is not the Elf I remember. You are so different than you once were, Thranduil." Her voice was still as soft and musical as ever, ringing like silver bells. But there was a coldness in it, and indifference. It was small but it was certainly there. "Time has changed you."

"In a good way or otherwise?" he asked, also with a degree of indifference. He did not care much on what anyone thought of him, only being polite to manipulate and friendly to charm. His wife however was one he loved deeply, and would give his life for again should the opportunity arise. With Liliel, he wanted her to reciprocate his feelings and quite frankly had deluded himself to think so. He heard the truth he wanted to hear, saw the smiles and gazes as complete adoration. His heart would no longer accept the reality of it all. But somewhere inside, he knew.

"I have seen much and experienced worse since you left me... One does not simply remain unchanged after such trials." Thranduil didn't intend to blame Liliel for anything, but it was true that her death had affected him like nothing else. Adding his injuries and fear for his son with that - plus the fact that nobody, not even Oropher could heal the hurts of that battle... It made for some seriously traumatic business. And elves never forgot such things, for their minds were made to remember. All the knowledge, good and bad. It stuck.

He held eye contact with Liliel, drinking the last of his wine and blinking slowly. Long, dark lashes swept down and touched his cheeks before rising like a curtain unveiling his soul. There was longing in his eyes, and something akin to the gaze of a lost elfling searching for his mother's approval. For if he was not valid in Liliel's eyes, he felt so inadequate not even he oceans could hold his tears from the reaction that would follow. Time had changed him, whether he liked it or not. Would she still accept him?

"Worse since I left you?" Liliel repeated, looking into her glass at her reflection in the crimson liquid for a moment. She had known how deeply Thranduil had loved her, and while she also loved him in a way, it was not a romantic sort of love or anything soul-consuming. In fact, she had never truly loved anyone at all. But when Legolas had been born, Liliel had learned of love. She and Thranduil both had. There was something all consuming about her love for her son, that a parent felt for her child, that caused her to sacrifice herself so that Legolas could live. Regardless, she could hear the sadness and pain in Thranduil's voice, she could see it in his eyes in a gaze that was slightly unfocused. It felt more that he was looking past her, rather than into her eyes as he actually was.

She was not ungrateful for everything Thranduil had given her, of course. He had been such a loving father to Legolas in their short time together as a family. He would have given anything for his son, and for her. She reached out to touch his cheek gently with a finger, sensing her husband's desire for validation. "My sweet Thranduil..." Liliel murmured softly as she leaned in to close the distance and press her lips to his cheek where her fingers had been. "I am glad you are here. I am so grateful you guided Legolas back to me, so that I would know that our son had lived well. Now, he always shall. But..." Liliel pulled back slightly, gazing into his eyes as she paused.

"One cannot remain unchanged after trials such as mine, either. You should know this better than ever. It is difficult to... cultivate something after so long... where soil is barren. We cannot simply fall back into the way life once was. It takes time..." And Liliel knew she would need an infinite amount of time. But she knew in her heart of hearts she could not say this to him. It would break him. She could see fragility there she had never seen in those eyes before. Perhaps, perhaps they could make this work again. Yes, she had always found Thranduil attractive, for who would not? One would have to be blind to not see this.

Thranduil tried to focus back to Liliel, feeling numbness spread from her touch. Had she just compared their love to a seed planted in barren land? No, rather it was a small shrub amidst an endless wasteland of nothingness. Their love was not strong and enduring like a tall, proud tree. It was more of a little bush with withered leaves and a few sweet berries that once eaten would not sate any hunger at all. Familiar, ancient knowledge poked at the back of his mind, threatening to spill its poisonous truths. But Thranduil forced it down with all his might, so deeply it might pierce the bottom of his heart and cause a violent hemorrhage of emotion had it been a physical object.

_She does not love me._

_She **does**. _

_...She must, why?_

Thranduil for the first time looked away. He could not hold his strong gaze where once there had been aloof confidence and overbearing superiority. He was barely seeing anything at all, not his wife's face, not the colours in the room, not the waning sunlight dipping below the horizon and casting faded light through the window. His eyes were glazed, for he had lost his touch with reality. Somehow it hurt less to slip into the fortress of his mind, where all was firmly controlled just the way he wanted it to be. No-one could leave him, disrespect him, feel for anyone else than Thranduil in there.

Grief and madness often walked hand in hand on the shores of a perfect world. Thranduil wondered which he would succumb to first.

He was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor thrandiddly doo. How I wish to hold you.  
> When this was being written, we both came to the conclusion that along with massive feels and possible abandonment issues, Thranduil honestly gets screwed over by everyone he loves.  
> Legolas wants Thrandy, Thrandy wants Legolas and Liliel, but Liliel only wants her son and doesn't give two shits about her long lost husbando.  
> Shit's gonna go down.


	14. 4-3 : The Valinor arc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter finished Jan 18

Liliel felt her husband turn cold, watch as his eyes unfocused a little more and he fell into himself as she had seen him do before. She withdrew her hand for a moment, seated just inches from him, uncertain of what to say or do. She had been honest with Thranduil out of respect, was fearful of making false promises that she did not know if she could keep. It was unkind, and it was unfair to him, he who had been through much since her passing. Her voice was a little firmer now, for she wished to get through to him, to penetrate that barred gate and wall he had out up to keep her out.

 

"Please... You must let me explain, Thranduil. Give me that small bit of respect?"

 

She watched him and reached for his hand, squeezing it firmly in her own as she sat her glass down. No, this would not do. Perhaps she could find it in her heart somewhere the love where there had been none. It must be buried in there somewhere, because loveless elves did not exist. She continued, regardless of if the King was listening or not. "You gave us many happy years together, Thranduil. You helped give us our son, our pride and joy. I do not regret a single moment of those years, of our times together. You must know this."

The only sign Thranduil gave that he was listening was a momentary glance in her direction. He then looked to the half empty wine bottle on the table (always half empty, pessimistic as he was) and refilled his glass, drawing it to his lips and downing it with an expert gulp. It would be needed if he was to survive this night.

 

Thranduil had given his wife royal status, a beautiful son and all she could ever hope for, or at least he thought so. And oh how he believed, truly that he had done the right thing when marrying her. In all aspects, for himself and for her. But it was not as if she could refuse the prince of her realm, lest Oropher banish her for breaking his son's heart. The times had been different back then, when one could receive a beheading just for offending someone in the royal family. Thranduil loved Liliel. He wanted her. And he always got what he wanted.

 

Something stirred within him. Liliel spoke a lot of "ours" and "us." Thranduil wondered about that. She barely knew Legolas at all, past the time when the aspiring young warrior just out of childhood had gone to fight dragons with the rest of their kingdom. It was a possessive anger that took the King now, his eyes glaring pointedly out the window. Legolas was _his_ son. _His_ lover. _His_ one and only who could never be replaced. A voice within told him such dependence was dangerous, but Thranduil had to reach for something. Legolas was all that kept him from breaking entirely. And now Liliel wished to also claim him? So they might be sundered, one living alone and two together? Thranduil's entire face tensed and he frowned severely, dark eyebrows shadowing his gaze. The moon would rise soon. And then he would have his son.

Liliel's own eyes darkened slowly as she continued to talk, Thranduil sitting before her barely acknowledging her words. He tossed back a glass of wine and she removed the bottle from his hands with a sharp glare. "That is quite enough, Thranduil. Have you no words for me? None at all? I am speaking to a wall of stone and I cannot even rely on Galion to tell me what's the matter."

 

She sighed, unable to stave off the anger building inside her. "Please. Do me the honor of just saying anything at all."

This was getting frustrating. She knew her words hurt but this was a whole new level she was exploring with the King now. Their living situation was already so tense, the air so thick in here that one could cut it with a knife.

Thranduil wished to tell her she was speaking to her king and husband, not a stone wall. The slightest whine left his throat from the second the bottle was removed, and he focused his gaze directly to Liliel.

"Anything at all." said he, the faintest smirk twitching at his lips. That was what Liliel wanted to hear, for she had asked for it moments ago. Now Thranduil knew sass and assholery was not the way to go in their current situation, but he could not find words nor connection to his thoughts for what he wanted to say. She spoke of the past and no ill, but his mind threatened to go deeper.

He thought about Galion. Loyal old Galion with his kind face and faded brown hair, always keeping close to the King. Did he spill secrets to Liliel when she'd been alive? It would make sense how she always knew some things Thranduil swore should've been secret. It only brought conflict between them anyway, this knowledge whenever it was shared. He would have to speak to the elf when he saw him, maybe even interrogate him. Nobody could tell of Thranduil's heart to anyone at all. That was the King's freedom on his own. He quite enjoyed being an enigma - where was the suspense and mystery if all knew about his inner self? He would speak of personal matters to private and certain folk only. Himself.

He furrowed his eyebrows at Liliel, glancing again past her to check the angle of moonlight through the window. Soon it would be time. _Soon_.

Liliel's lips almost curled when Thranduil dared to try her patience with his mockery. But she could keep her head, and she took a deep, cleansing breath. She had every mind not to toss Thranduil out of her home and onto his ass for all of the other elves in the small village to see. No, she would not do that. They had to save some sort of face as a royal family. The perfect, reunited royal family whose love ran deeper than the sea. At least, that was the image they had presented for the years she was alive, and they would continue to do it this way. "Do not try me, husband." She said beneath her breath. Liliel closed her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘ _Valar give me strength.’_

She watched as Thranduil's eyes drift to the window and she followed his gaze. Her brow furrowed and blue eyes narrowed. "Is there somewhere else you wish you could be? If so, go there. Perhaps we can discuss this tomorrow, when your head is clearer and your lips and mind decide to work respectfully." Liliel was bristling, but it was a quiet anger, not explosive like Thranduil's could be.

Thranduil set his glass on the table and rose, keeping his head high and eyes trained before him. Steadily he walked with purpose towards the door, and simply left. He did not wish to anger his wife tonight. He'd felt like sobbing into her chest minutes ago, and now he just wanted a change of place. He needed Legolas.

 

Thranduil walked along the shore searching for his son, calling to him through their connection.

_"Where are you, iôn nín?"_ he asked, trying to mask the sadness he'd felt from his thoughts about Liliel. Now was not the time for such feelsy things. He was to speak of living arrangements in private with Legolas, and they would spend hopefully some peaceful time together.

Liliel's eyes narrowed, burning into Thranduil's back as her husband did just what she had suggested. He left. But she could not keep down the anger that simmered, the heat in her veins that was causing her blood to boil. Her husband _had_ changed, and what she hated more than anything was being kept in the dark. If he would not speak to her tonight about it, she would make sure as Mandos' Halls that he would speak to his behavior tomorrow. This just wouldn't do. Not one bit.

Legolas had wandered the shores for several hours alone. He enjoyed some solitude, but he would have preferred Thranduil nearby. The King's company had always been more than welcome, in his mind. He had seen many of the guards and servants that had served his father and they had bowed to him respectfully. It relieved Legolas to know that there was no ill will, at least none that was displayed openly. Thranduil would be glad to know this. He had paid close attention to the sky, and just as the moon rose to its peak, he felt his father reach to him. It was then that he saw Thranduil walking towards him in the distance along the shoreline. The water was dark with a silver shimmer from the moon and the sound of the waves crashing along the shore peaceful. The sand was white and the gems that dotted it seemed to glow in the night. The figure moving in his direction was unmistakable and Legolas raised a hand, although he knew it was more than likely his father did not see him well. _"Here, Adar... straight ahead."_

Thranduil sensed Legolas close by and walked until he could see the moonlight glinting in golden blonde hair, a bluish light cast upon all that was near. He reached out with both arms and touched upon his son's body, then pulled him into a tight hug. For long he stayed like that, relishing in the warm comfort and openness of his son.

Relief flooded their connection, and Thranduil's more negative emotions were dampened down. He couldn't resist kissing Legolas gently by his neck just for a second, before releasing the Prince.

_"We have much to discuss.. Have you found a solution to our dilemma within yourself so far?"_

Legolas held Thranduil tightly, relishing in their togetherness and their closeness. It had felt like forever. In a way, it had been a long time. Before the war began suddenly they had barely spoken to each other for a week. It was not unlike the two Sindar royals, when they hit a rift. But there was never any true concern for Legolas loved his father more than anyone and anything and he knew his father felt the same.

He breathed in the familiar woodsy scent that still seemed to linger on his flesh and hair. It was a reminder of Mirkwood, and Legolas knew he craved the woods again. The beach was nice, but his heart belonged amongst the trees. Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the kiss to his neck. They would still have to be careful here, for any could be watching. The beaches seemed strangely empty tonight, and for that Legolas was grateful. He reached down to entwine their fingers. _"Other than knowing I do not wish to stay with Nana? No, I have not found a solution."_ Legolas tugged Thranduil gently along the shore with him, his leggings rolled up to his knees again so they would not get wet, his boots somewhere forgotten along the way. It mattered not to him, for the sand between his toes and the grass beneath his feet grounded him.

_"If I had it my way, you and I would build our own little talan somewhere in the trees. And you? Have you thought of a means to an end of this little... predicament?"_

_"Regrettably, I have not come to agree on anything yet. I somehow wish for you and I to live together, but I also want to see what has become of a few close people of mine before making any firm decisions."_ Thranduil walked alongside Legolas, happy to have his son's hand in his own once more. He thought about living like the Noldor - with their ranks of authority and noble lifestyle. The simple life was not for Thranduil - he desired attention, adoration, and grandeur. He wanted to know what had become of Oropher, and what sort of life the ancient King lived on his own. If he had a palace somewhere, Thranduil wanted to have a piece. Always, he felt entitled to what his family owned.

Regal privileges aside, Thranduil glanced to his son. Legolas was one to live in forests away from controlling influence and conformity, always doing what he wished without much care for anything else.

_"I really do wish you and I could build a place up in the trees, like how we used to live in the Greenwood. Remember Amon Lanc and its high structures? I was always trying to keep you from falling."_ He smiled at the memory, of little Legolas in his arms and that red-faced pout along with pleas to be let go, that he would be safe... Only to be cuddled close and taken somewhere safer. His mind sighed at the thoughts, connection taking up a warm glow.

Legolas laughed into the darkness as they walked, remembering fully well. _"And do you remember how many times I had tried to sneak out of whatever contraption you created for me to keep me from escaping? And how many times I had actually done so successfully?"_ Even as a small child it was almost impossible to contain the Prince. He was willful and sneaky, not to mention manipulative and clever. He loved to climb, to be up higher than he should, and frankly, to give his father a small heart attack each time.

_"And sometimes I fell, but it wasn't anything that was impossible to repair. But gods I would cry and cry and cry."_ Legolas' eyes glittered for a moment and he shot a smirk in his father's direction. _"Similar to what you do now."_ He moved to the King's left as they walked, nudging him a little closer in the direction of the water. Legolas remained where he was comfortable, guiding Thranduil on his left as he had so many years of his life. _"If we were to live amongst the trees again, I would hope that you have at least a little more faith in my climbing ability."_

Thranduil registered something rather unpleasant at Legolas mentioning how he would cry at the slightest things - he wondered if the Prince was mocking his emotional responses. That little smirk seemed rather indicative of such, but Thranduil did not act upon it. He couldn't control himself when drunk or in physical agony. He doubted Legolas could either.

Thranduil sighed heavily, looking out over the dark ocean.

_"I have more faith in your abilities now, yes. Gladly would I live amongst the trees with you.. But what of your mother?"_

He did not want to admit, but Liliel might become a problem. Thranduil loved her and Legolas too - but the choice was far too much for him to bear. Why and how had things broke so convoluted so soon?

Legolas sighed as Thranduil brought up the issue of his mother. He had hoped they could walk in each other's company for a time, to just enjoy things between them, without bringing up their... arrangements. Legolas was none too happy about any of the viable situations at the moment _. "What of her?"_ Legolas did not mean that coldly, but frankly he was certain it had been decided: that Thranduil would remain with her. If they were to all separate, or if Thranduil and Legolas decided to live together, it would not do well at all for their image. And Legolas did not wish to anger Liliel.

He stopped for a moment in the sand and turned to look at Thranduil. His brow was furrowed slightly, his blue eyes serious. " _I, personally, do not desire **any** of our options. No matter what I say though, I am certain you have your mind made up. What is it **you** wish for, Adar? Surely Nana desires her husband back in her bed."_

_"I left the house on less than positive terms with her. She does not desire me in her bed tonight... Neither I her. I want **you** , Legolas. My most precious treasure..."_ Thranduil cupped Legolas's cheek with one hand, still holding the other with their fingers twined. _"Though our situational choices are not favourable, have we not gone far out of convention already? We are not bound to these options. Why not run where we can both be happy?"_ The voice that spoke within was not the old Elvenking who would hide in his fortress and keep life the same, but a young prince with optimistic hopes and an idealistic mind to match. Too long had the old ways brought suffering upon their family. He was still able to delude himself regarding Liliel but it was easier if they were not speaking face to face on a daily basis. He gazed into Legolas's eyes, close enough so he could clearly see the lovely blue.

As Legolas leaned into his father's warm hand, close enough so Thranduil could see him, which was also close enough so that the Prince could feel the softness and warmth of the other's breath on his lips. This was a new side of Thranduil Legolas had never seen before. A youthful, adventurous side, where there were no boundaries. Surely they would have to be cautious, but that Thranduil was even humoring any of his own wild ideas was exciting. Something had certainly changed, and Legolas found that he quite liked it.

_"Aman is only so large, Adar... I imagine word travels quickly here. Surely she would find out almost instantly that her husband ran off with her son..."_ But Legolas' heart fluttered in excitement and he tried to swallow it all. Even now, his feet were itching to run. But he stood planted in place in the soft sand, as the waves lapped at his ankles. _"Surely there is a more... delicate way to do things. You would go to your father and I would find my own way. But we would make certain to seek each other out each night for I couldn't bear to be separated from you for more than that..."_

_"I can only imagine the wrath of your mother.."_ Thranduil murmured softly, his thumb by Legolas's cheek pressing ever so slightly in a soothing circular motion. Even though the Prince's face was not tense, Thranduil just loved the feel of such smooth skin at his touch. _"If you seek your own home I will not stop you.. But my father would take us both in, offer protection if needed... He can speak diplomatically against any accusations - you and I will be safe to do as we wish without fear of anything."_

Oropher was not fond of Liliel for he had seen her heart, being incredibly perceptive about all those who neared his son. He knew she did not love Thranduil as Thranduil loved her, and it hurt every day to see his precious ellon throw himself at one who would never reciprocate. Oropher tried, oh how he tried to keep them separate, even resorting to threats and manipulation to split them apart. But sooner or later Thranduil realised Oropher could do nothing to stand in the way of their love, once Legolas had been born.

That very same Legolas stood before him now, grown yet still young in his father's eyes. Thranduil pressed his lips gently to his son's, all senses on alert for footsteps in the sand. And he sighed, body flooded with relief that Legolas still loved him. They really could do anything together - this was the validation he'd needed. But he was blind to his own dependence upon the Prince - and so much more.

Legolas reached to cup Thranduil's jaw as their lips touched. If anyone were to see them now, Legolas would not care at the moment, for the one who stood before him was all that mattered, the only one that had ever mattered this entire time. Despite everything he had been through, everything they had been through, Thranduil, although reluctant and resistant towards some of his son's decisions, had remained like a rock, an anchor for Legolas, unwavering.

Thranduil's lips were sweet, tasting of wine and his own sweetness that Legolas had never been able to place. This is what had always felt right. They were both listening now, for any unwelcome footsteps in the sand, but they were alone, as far as Legolas could sense. He knew Oropher was an option, and it would be preferable to living alone. But even then, Legolas feared they would be in a similar boat: continuing to live and love in secret as they always had. It matters not to the Prince as it once had, for at least they were alive, and together.

_"Protection?"_ Legolas pulled back slightly, his lips curving downwards in a frown. _"Protection from who? Nana? I daresay she would approach your father for any reason at all."_ He sighed, audibly _. "You know I would desire to stay with you, as we once have, above all other options. It does not feel right to me any other way. My mind and my heart would never be at peace."_

Thranduil looked to the side, nibbling at his lip.

_"When I say protection... I mean, should your mother come looking for you and intend to separate us by force..."_ He shook his head, hair swishing about. _"Forgive me. My worries tend to overdramatise things sometimes."_ Within his mind there was an image of Liliel running around with an axe in one hand, rope in the other. He was thinking of the craziest scenario in which his wife would steal away Legolas and run off.

_"We do not have to decide today... But I believe living with my father would be the best option. He loves us both dearly, and would never turn away his own family."_ For Oropher loved his family more than anything else, and had vowed to be affectionate and protective towards them for as long as he lived. He didn't consider Liliel his family though, and wished for nothing more than Thranduil to be safe with him. Legolas too, as Oropher had always found him adorable.

Thranduil pressed his forehead to Legolas and looked deeply into his eyes. For a moment he could hear nothing but the thoughts in his own head, and feel the warmth of his son.

Legolas closed his eyes, savoring the closeness and his father's warmth. _"You have **always** tended to over dramatize things, meleth nin..."_ Legolas could only imagine what Thranduil was thinking and wished to assure his father that what he was thinking could never actually occur. His mother was protective, Legolas was certain, but surely she wasn't _mad_.

He was well aware of Oropher's love for his own family, for he had cherished Thranduil as Legolas had been cherished for many years as a child. Now, affections ran deeper, deeper than they should within a single bloodline. _"Yes, you may be right, but... he knows nothing of us. Surely he would suspect and surely he would not approve."_ In fact, Legolas really had no idea. Their family was certainly unique among elves, their kin overprotective of their own to a fault.

_"He has strange thoughts when it comes to love..."_ Thranduil admitted _"I know for a fact he would be accepting of you and I being intimately close... As long as it was kept private and respectful. He can ignore things he disapproves of... He did that when I married your mother."_ He stopped himself before memories took his mind away, and rested his head on Legolas's shoulder. Here he felt he could fall asleep, let the stress of the day completely melt away. But they had to find somewhere proper to sleep, unless Legolas wished to lay beside his father in the sand and stargaze all night.

_"What shall we do for the rest of this night?"_

Legolas wished for nothing more as well, to lay on the beach and gaze at the stars until sleep overtook them. But they would be too exposed on the beach. They were too close to Liliel's home. Others would talk, and surely it would get to her ears and be twisted about in the worst possible way. _"Then to him we shall go, but tonight is for us alone."_ He said nothing to Thranduil's comment regarding Oropher's lack of approval towards his mother but could only wonder. He could sense the tension between them when they had arrived. Liliel had been distant and almost cold towards Thranduil. And Legolas could not help but feel for the King, for he had seen how his father had suffered in her absence. He pushed all these thoughts aside for now... they would discuss them more tomorrow.

Turning his head slightly, Legolas pressed a soft kiss to Thranduil's head, reaching out to run his hands through the silken silver locks, twisting the ends gently around his fingers. His eyes twinkled like the stars that shone above him. _"I know the sea shall wash your worries away. Would you care to take a swim with me?"_ Legolas had already reached between himself, undoing the buttons of his tunic. " _Though, if you refuse, I fear I shall have to persuade you, and you shall not like the way I do so."_

Thranduil chuckled softly, knowing Legolas would probably throw him in if he refused. Quite frankly he didn't mind going for a swim, but without clothes would be preferable.

_"How can I refuse you, iôn nín?"_ he smiled, stepping back to disrobe. It didn't take long for his clothes and boots to be neatly piled up on the sand, and he stretched as a cool wind swept past. Ah, he felt free. Nothing constricted his movement and it was a natural thing for him to be nude in all his elven glory. His pale skin took a slightly blue sheen to it in the moonlight, hair just as silver as it had always been.

Thranduil waded into the water and gestured for Legolas to join him, looking like a sea spirit the deeper he got with the waves swallowing him up and hair waving like seaweed. Elves couldn't catch a cold from swimming at night, and it felt pleasant enough.

_"To be honest, Adar, I had half expected you to... In fact, I was hoping that you might."_ Legolas grinned at his father through the darkness. He shrugged off his tunic, kicked off his boots, and wiggled out of his leggings. They were all left in a haphazard pile near Thranduil's carefully folded clothing and he moved towards the water. His own skin was pale and seemed to glow in the moonlight, his golden hair unbraided and hanging loose to the middle of his back. He took one step into the cold ocean before taking the plunge, submerging himself completely in the salty water. He had been blessed with the ability to stay submerged for an extensive period of time, and emerged next to the King after several long minutes. His hair was slicked back and plastered to his shoulders.

"These are no hot springs..." Legolas' voice whispered in the dark. "But they will have to do. I am sure we are not far from some. I cannot imagine the Elves living without. I imagine there is everything one can desire here."

"Yes... We shall perhaps go on a little adventure tomorrow and see what we can find." said Thranduil, treading water with his arms spread out. He was light enough to float with ease, and soon began to relax in the dark coolness of the sea. Night in Aman was not a thing of evil shadows and dangerous lurkers - rather it was a calm and peaceful gloom that invited long, lonely strolls and stories of starlit memory.

There were many lakes and hot springs throughout the lands, though private locations were few and far between when so many elves wished to be in the company of each other. The Sindar in particular were social creatures, and preferred large groups than selective company. Thranduil however was fussy, and chose carefully only those he yearned for. Legolas was essentially all he needed at this time.

He tilted his head back and his body followed, floating atop the waves as they rocked him from side to side.

"Ahh.." he sighed, "I have missed this." It had been millennia since Thranduil had last been to the sea.

Legolas allowed himself to float alongside the King, gazing at the stars above. There was nothing to fear being taken far out into this sea. Legolas had always been a very competent and capable swimmer, knowing full well that he had given his father and mother more than one near heart attack when he was younger. Legolas had been fond of many things that had made him frightfully mobile. He was fearless of heights, of the darkness, of wild animals and strange creatures, of the water. In the mind of a child Legolas had ruled all around him, including his parents. He had them wrapped around each finger.

 

"Where has this Thranduil been all of my life? The adventurous and wild-spirited creature who floats beside me now in this unknown sea?" Legolas smiled up at the stars, they twinkled and glittered like fireflies above their heads. There was nothing the Prince loved more than to be beneath the stars, the blanket of the night sky. "I must say, I quite like him."

"He has waited for the right moment, location and person to be with. The three glasses of wine I had prior may have helped." Thranduil smiled to himself, thinking maybe this was how things were meant to be. When trapped in a seemingly impossible situation it brought out the irrational side of him that spoke of following his heart, not caring for anything else. Most of his decisions were made with the mind of a military strategist, a commanding King working for the good of his people. Now he could work for himself, and his son. He had learnt to see Legolas as capable and as street-smart as an elf could be. Here in Aman they could not die, not from fire nor ice, starvation nor evil. Life was intended to be perfect here, just so.

Thranduil acting like an adventurous young prince obviously appealed to his son, who seemed to be in high spirits as Thranduil could feel through their connection. He too gazed at the stars and saw bright shining dots amidst the blurry sea of black that was most of his vision, and sighed. This was how things were meant to be.

"Only three?" Legolas murmured with a laugh. He turned his head slightly in the water to gaze at Thranduil as they bobbed up and down in the water. "Are you certain that you did not mean three bottles? This is a side of you I have never seen."

He allowed himself to rise slightly in the water, using his arms and legs to propel himself through the sea, circling the King. "But that is beside the point, I suppose. What does this new Thranduil wish to do? We have the whole night ahead of us while the land sleeps. We can do anything and everything here."

Thranduil thought for a moment, loving this little game they played. It was tantalising to know they could truly do anything, whatever they wished. He reached out and trailed his fingers through Legolas's hair as it drifted behind him, one arm moving to bring the Prince close.

"How about a little race? The coast is nice and straight, and I could use the exercise." He didn't much feel like sleeping this night - rather he was energised with fresh hope and excitement, feeling younger than he had in centuries. The day had been a mix of dreary concerns and fleeting moments of happiness - Thranduil felt like a bit of adrenaline and friendly competition tonight with his son.

Legolas' eyes lit up at the prospect. He grabbed Thranduil's hand and tugged him towards the shore. He always ached to run, to move his legs and feel the wind in his hair. Knowing that his father wished for the same rush of adrenaline and thrill of a race excited the Prince to no end. "I can hardly remember the last time we ran together for fun..."

Not being chased by orcs or other creatures that wished to see them dead. He moved from the water, his lithe and muscular pale form dripping with water. He dried himself with his tunic and pulled his leggings on for some measure of decency. Not all of Aman was asleep after all, and the sight of two elves running nude down the beach might have turned a few heads. He bent over to toss Thranduil his own leggings. "I hope you are prepared to lose horribly to your own son, melethron." His blue eyes glittered and darkened as he teased.

"We shall see..." Thranduil caught his leggings and also dried himself with the back of his robes, as they had enough drapery to serve as a towel. He pulled on his leggings and shook the water from his hair, in a majestic sweep one could use for a shampoo commercial.

"From here to there and back, agreed?" Thranduil gestured to a distant point where a tall tree stood overlooking a rounded section of the shore, with little sand hills rising up out of the water. He could see its light green leaves shimmering in the moonlight, like pale melon slices up in the sky.

One foot dug into the sand behind him and he took a position ready to go, looking to Legolas.

Legolas leaned forward, the tips of his fingers and feet braced in the soft sand, muscles tensed and ready for a swift burst of speed. "Agreed." His eyes scanned the horizon and their destination, the great tree in the distance. His heart was racing, his adrenaline pumping hard already. "On the count of three...." Legolas had barely counted to two when he was off in a flash of pale skin and golden hair.

His long, lean muscles were made for speed and his feet barely made contact with the white sand beneath him as he sped along the beach with every intention to leave Thranduil in the dust.

Thranduil bolted after Legolas, surging through the cloud of sand to escape being left in the dust. His long legs carried a powerful sprint and as he ran to catch up with his son, Thranduil felt truly alive. The wind in his hair and scent of the sea, cool night and rush of energy reminded him of the early days in the Second Age when he'd been with the Noldor close to the Western shores of Middle-Earth. Ah, he had raced many and won often there, being nearly unmatched in his speed. Legolas however presented quite a challenge, his youthful body made to run and leap through trees and terrain many would not dare to cross. He got far more exercise than Thranduil did, and the King was surprised at just how quick he was. Thranduil made a mental note that if he ever had to run away from Legolas for whatever reason, he would have to take his stag form and speed away on four legs.

Thranduil was proving quite quickly to be a very formidable opponent in Legolas' eyes. Keen Elven ears picked up on swiftly approaching sound of feet in sound, soft exhales of breath, and the swish of hair in the wind. Within moments the tree was before them and Legolas touched the rough bark before bursting off again and barreling towards their imagined finish line. He felt utterly alive right now, but he gave the race everything he had and was breathless and panting for breath by the end of it all.

_"I feel that we should have made bets on the spoils for the winner, Adar..."_

Thranduil collapsed into the sand moments after Legolas reached their line, lying on his back and panting with a satisfied look on his face.

_"Had we made bets, you would have gotten whatever you wanted."_

It felt good to rest after that burst of energy and Thranduil's hair was almost entirely dry from the wind, his body hot but not sweating. He spread his arms out and turned to gaze at his son with a light smile.

_"You are much faster than I anticipated."_

_"Much faster than you had anticipated? That is such a half-hearted compliment. But it is to be expected from one who lost."_ Legolas grinned and sat beside Thranduil, his own chest still heaving as he caught his breath. _"That is a shame that I missed my chance to place a bet then for something I was so certain I would win."_

He leaned over and pressed a teasing kiss to Thranduil's lips, his golden hair tickling the King's chest lightly. He pulled back with a smirk. "You shall have to practice."

_"There are many ways I can think of to... strengthen my legs and stamina, that's for sure..."_ Thranduil smirked back at Legolas and saw a reflection of himself in his son's face, proud and strong. He rolled over and placed one leg over the Prince's thigh, propping his body on one elbow. Closer he shifted until he could rest his head on Legolas's chest, breathing out a quiet sigh.

_"We should do this more often."_

Legolas laughed quietly, slinging one arm over Thranduil's ribs as they got close. His body was still damp and he felt the soft white grains of sand cling to it as they rested there. His hand moved to Thranduil's hair again, just barely damp as he combed his fingers lightly through it. It was even more brilliant beneath the light of the moon, glowing and glistening like the gems that his father loved so much.

_"I would think that you would have breezed past me, with how often you strengthen your legs and... stamina on a regular basis. Perhaps you are not training hard enough."_

They were just far enough from the shore so that the waves did not lap at them, but close enough to feel the breeze roll off of them and over their bodies. Legolas agreed. They both needed this type of freedom, his father especially, who had walled himself off for so long. It felt so good now, to lay beneath the stars and share this closeness without fear of repercussion.

_"There is nothing to stop us from doing this each and every night for as long as we remain."_ Legolas' fingertips curled around Thranduil's pointed ear and he stroked it lightly, from length to tip as his mind wandered. _"Here, we are free."_

Thranduil moaned very softly at the touch by his ear, breath hot against the slight cool dampness of Legolas's chest.

_"We are free... but it is a choice we make to stray from what is expected and lead lives of our own. There is consequence in that, one which may follow us for the rest of eternity..."_ He was referring to the fact that leaving Liliel would cause a stir of questions amongst the Sindar, maybe even change the opinions of the loyal Silvan who were starting to move in. It was like playing a game - only here the stakes weren't between winning or death. If Thranduil was looked to as a rebel and not King, he could turn away and live freely for as long as he liked. If he was still regarded in high standing there would be manipulation needed to turn prying eyes away from his situation with Legolas. And oh, he loved to play the game. But he hated to lose. His reputation was everything, and if Liliel sought to destroy it he didn't know what he'd do.

He nuzzled against Legolas's chest, nose just brushing past a nipple as his lips remained nearby. With a sigh, Thranduil closed his eyes.

_"You know, we could always spend the night here, beneath the stars. The temperature will not hurt us, neither creatures of the dark."_ Literally everything in Aman was safe, except for Fire which was the power of the one Vala who no longer roamed these lands to control it and burn. The elves could sleep beneath the stars and never feel anything other than a pleasant breeze, uncomfortable cold being reserved for the icy mountains in Middle-Earth. Thranduil was warm enough with his son nearby, and those fingertips at his ear were starting a different heat in his body he was finding difficult to ignore.

Legolas' own skin prickled at the hot breath upon his chest, the tip of Thranduil's nose lightly brush against an already erect nipple. He inhaled softly, sharply, biting his lower lip to stifle his own moan. It had been a long time, very long, since they had truly been intimate. There was no time or desire in a time of war and desolation, of fear and of doubt. Now, they were shrouded in the night sky and peace, blessed peace. Safety and security that Legolas had not known for years. It was strange feeling safe enough to lay beneath the stars, no weapons nearby to protect them. It was then that Legolas reached to touch his own back. He had felt strangely exposed, nude, as they lay on the beach. Legolas always had access to his daggers, his quiver nearly constantly strapped to his back. But they were not there, and the Prince realized that those things had been left in Middle Earth, in their forest as flames consumed it. They had probably been destroyed, along with everything else Legolas had called home.

Legolas' eyes moved to meet his father's, his own slightly dark, the panic he had felt for a moment leaving them. _"I would not ask you to choose a life you do not wish for..."_ Legolas could only see Thranduil as King. He was born for it, bred for it. He was a magnificent and powerful Elf with a commanding presence that struck fear into the eyes of others. He could not see his father truly happy if he had none to command, none to bow to him. Legolas on the other hand, had lived a simpler life with the Fellowship. He was not treated like a Prince, respected because of his status. He had earned it through his loyalty and the protection he provided his company. _"You would be shamed, and your honor questioned by those who once bent the knee to you without thought. They would see you as a coward running from them, running from who you are."_

Thranduil grunted in agreement, though he wasn't pleased about it.

_"What I wouldn't give to have my advisors with me come morning! There are too many factors to consider about these arrangements..."_

There was always the possibility of ruling a different set of elves if Thranduil and Legolas went to live with Oropher, but alas most of Thranduil's folk were arriving at the western village and they were the people he belonged with. Then again, Thranduil belonged with the Noldor too. Gil-Galad saw Thranduil as a son and would gladly look after him in times of need. He just had a problem.. of letting go. But Thranduil wanted to rule, for he was a King... and he wanted to fuck his son. Were the two really so impossible to have together?

"Mleerghhhh..." Thranduil groaned, and pressed his face into Legolas's neck. Tightly he held the Prince and his legs were wrapped like a cage around him too. _"I suppose I cannot have all the Sindar and Silvan for eternity hating me... But I don't think my living with your mother would turn out well."_

Thranduil had been called a coward once, by his very best friend he had left to die. He could not run from his people again, no matter what. For a good King didn't choose between the survival of the world nor himself - the option was always his people, every single time.

His father's end of their connection had been troubled, and Legolas could feel it. He embraced Thranduil tightly, pressing soft kisses to his head. This was a decision that would take time to make, lots of feeling out. Legolas knew that there could be no definitive decision made so quickly, for he was certain that Thranduil would regret anything that was too hasty. Although Legolas loved his father, he remembered their arguments before Legolas had left for the Fellowship. The King desperately did not want his son to leave, but Legolas had been adamant. They were part of this world and he would not sit back and watch it burn around them. He had called Thranduil a coward, and some hateful words were exchanged. Legolas had snarled that the King hid behind his crown. Part of him had hated Thranduil for those moments, hated his decisions and his perceived cowardice, but Legolas had been overcome by guilt shortly thereafter on his journey alone to Imladris.

_"There is so much to think upon, Adar. We shall visit your father on the morrow. Perhaps he shall have some good advice for you."_ Legolas hoped so, at least, though he was not so certain. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Thranduil's cheek, pulling his face upwards to look him in the eyes. _"In time these things will make themselves known to us. Come."_ Legolas dipped his head to taste Thranduil's lips, seeking to calm him. _"You are no King tonight other than of my heart. Save your worries for the sun. Let us have one night of peace, of freedom... one where status is unimportant. You will have your throne again."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break this chapter here ( didn't want to, but eehh...) bc it might get tough for you guys having to read bigass walls of text. The next chapter directly continues from this with SMUT!! YEEEEE


	15. 4-4 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas eats a dick! There is powerplay! The Lord of Airs doesn't like incest! Sandy buttsecks ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter finished: Jan 20, but early on and closer to Jan 19. Dem times are cray. HOOOH.  
> -continuation of previous chapter ok-

Thranduil was calmed by his son's voice and gentle kisses, and returned the affection with some of his own.

 _"Oh, you are so good with your words iôn nín..."_ he murmured, willing to accept the peace they shared. Slowly he ran his hands up Legolas's back, not caring for the fine sand beneath his nails or grainy feel at his skin. In a moment he pulled Legolas to lie atop him and sighed quietly. His son's weight was familiar and comfortable, even though Thranduil was somewhat using Legolas as a blanket. More kisses dipped from lips to neck, a few marks sucked into pale skin that would show just a slight redness in the morning. 

He thought about having his throne again. If such a thing could be built in Aman then yes, he would have it. It was his birthright, something his family owned above all the other noble Sindarin houses. Kings of the Silvan, protectors of the forest. Well, Thranduil had partially failed at that last part. But no matter; if his people still respected him despite all he had done then things could go back to normal. Those thoughts left his mind as he looked up, into Legolas's eyes. Now was not the time for worry.

 _"I have had to learn to be good with my words, Adar..."_ Legolas had a very delicate way of speaking about things when he wanted to. However, he also had been known to speak out of turn every now and again, speaking out of anger and without thought. As Thranduil pulled Legolas atop his slender body Legolas allowed his knees to fall on either side of the King's thighs, his body reacting almost immediately as his mouth found his lips again, moving down the flesh of his neck. He felt marks begin to bloom on pale flesh, and blood coursed throughout his body, heating his skin. His own fingers reached out to grasp Thranduil's shoulders for a moment, digging lightly into muscle and soft flesh.

He bared his throat to Thranduil's mouth, his blue eyes fluttering shut for a moment. His breath was quickening. How swift Thranduil could make him needy like this! It took only one look, and Legolas knew he was done for. _"I am even better with my mouth."_ Legolas' eyes flickered opened, darkening like the night sky surrounding them as he looked Thranduil straight in the eye, running his fingertips over the soft flesh of his lower lip, replacing it with his tongue, swiping it over his lip slowly.

_"I shall miss sitting upon your lap on your throne."_

_"Such delicious images you paint within my mind..."_ Thranduil pulled Legolas into a fiercely passionate kiss, consuming all he could taste with slight moans escaping. _"Oh, watch.. and see if you would have liked this."_ A picture appeared within their connection, slowly revealed from blackness to an image of Thranduil sitting high upon his throne with crown and robes befitting his status. One leg that was crossed over the other unfolded and parted his robes to reveal a lack of pants, something Legolas may have wondered about when Thranduil had been so covered in thick silk there was no sign he wore anything else underneath. And he beckoned with one finger, head held high and a smirk at his lips. The real Thranduil beneath Legolas had that exact same smirk as he pulled from their kiss, just daring the Prince to make his move. His eyes were a dark bluish green, lust and mischief combined as he sought to arouse Legolas with his mind.

_"You are also good with your mouth... and have served me well with it. Come, show me.. what you can do."_

Legolas groaned as Thranduil so beautifully abused the connection they shared to tease his son, painting an image in his mind that was so real he could almost taste it, smell the woodsy scent of the throne room built within the forest. His eyes closed as he imagined himself scaling the stairs leading to the great throne and kneeling between Thranduil's legs, gazing up into that beautiful face, that cold, calculating, and almost cruel smile that sent Legolas' blood boiling and so many emotions bubbling to the surface. When his eyes fluttered open he was greeted with that same look and dipped his head to kiss Thranduil hard.

 _"You are a cruel tease, Adar..."_ But two could play that game, and Legolas slid his way down the King's body slowly, his lips, tongue and teeth laving a red trail over a small nipple, flicking it lightly over the small red berry on Thranduil's chest before making his way a little lower. Dark blue eyes were smoldering as they remained fixed on Thranduil's face, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his abdomen and just above the waistband of his leggings. Thranduil's flesh tasted of the brine of the sea mixed with his own natural flavors, and it was a heady combination that made Legolas desire to eat the King alive.

_"Tonight this mouth is yours to command... I shall have you calling my name before this night ends."_

Thranduil watched as Legolas went lower, and found himself fully erect by the time those sweet lips had reached the waistband of his leggings. Tonight, the Prince would offer his mouth at Thranduil's command... Such a thing gave him a rush of control, and his gaze became dangerously possessive.

 _"You tease me even more with those kisses of yours..."_ he whispered darkly, running his hands down his body until they came to his hips. _"Bite me."_ His tone was commanding with any desperation hidden - he'd played this game for long enough to know just how to win. Thranduil suspected however Legolas always got what he wanted, happy enough to serve his father's needs no matter what they were.

Slowly he spread his legs apart and canted his hips up to the sky, peeling down his always too-tight leggings. Had it not been in habit for the King to wear long flowing robes all the time, his ass would be a walking feast for the eyes in his form-fitting clothes. He managed to get a reasonable amount of exposure and figured it would be good enough for Legolas to work with - he yearned for teeth and lips to mark him all over, his blood rushing hot with excitement and need.

Legolas felt his own hot rush of excitement that went straight to his groin at the sight of that possessive gaze, the command and conviction in the sultry voice haunting his mind. None could command the headstrong Prince's heart, save for the King who seemed to so easily master him as one would a puppet. He always had some sort of string attached to Thranduil's fingers and would practically do anything asked of him. Legolas got off just on the idea. Even then, Legolas knew deep within that Thranduil held back slightly, perhaps because he was the King's own flesh and blood. He wished desperately that Thranduil would give himself over fully, but for now, Legolas would take what he could get. And tonight, this was just perfect.

As Thranduil wriggled out of his tight leggings and revealed himself to Legolas' hungry gaze, his eyes flickered in the starlight as he looked over his feast. _"As you wish..."_ Came a murmur in Thranduil's mind as Legolas nibbled along the muscles of his father's thighs, sucking lightly and allowing his teeth to graze close to, but not touching the throbbing length between his legs. He skillfully avoided it. Thranduil would beg him for it, or force his head if Legolas became to brazen with where his mouth traveled and where it did _not_ go.

Legolas' hands forced Thranduil's thighs apart, ducking his golden head as his teeth nipped sharply at the tender flesh he found, relishing in the marks he left.

"Ooooohhnn..." Thranduil groaned, knowing he should be quiet but not giving the slightest care at all. How Legolas teased him! Wanting to make the King beg, lose himself completely... Thranduil would put up a fight and ensure they both got what they wanted - mostly himself. As he felt his son's teeth nip around, sparks of pleasure shot through his body and he found himself wanting more. The sand parted as his head tilted back, shallow breaths and deep moans escaping his lips. He gripped handfuls of the sand but it ran from his fingers, and in an instant Thranduil grabbed Legolas's hair.

"Here.." he breathed, tugging at the golden locks in his hand to indicate where he wanted his son. His arousal ached for attention, and Legolas wasn't giving it enough. That was probably his plan, but after so long without this feeling Thranduil felt he couldn't draw things out. There was a time for slow paced lovemaking but now was not that time.

Thranduil's sounds were like music to Legolas' ears. He continued his work, marking the flesh of his thighs, his hips, just beneath his belly button, when his hair was yanked with a strong hand in the direction of what Legolas had been trying so carefully to avoid. The tug was a little painful, but Legolas had always enjoyed a bit of a rougher lovemaking. It excited him and filled his veins with heat. His body was already aflame at the next command, and Legolas smirked up at the King before obliging.

The pale rod of flesh that stood proud and at attention before Legolas' eyes was bathed in moonlight and was a delectable treat indeed. He bared his teeth lightly up at Thranduil before running the flat of his tongue along his length, from base to tip, before leaning in closer to scrape his teeth lightly along the underside, careful and calculated with his movements. The flesh was like steel bathed in silk and had a taste that Legolas craved. " _If I bite you here, meleth nin, I fear I might lose my privileges with you.."_

 _"Then suck it, Legolas... Mmm, you do look like such a wild thing down there. Careful you don't rip me to shreds..."_ Thranduil gazed down at Legolas and bat his eyelashes teasingly, wrapping his legs around the Prince's body. He was quite flexible despite looking rather delicate at the moment, and arched up to poke Legolas with his length.

 _"You haven't eaten much today. Go on, taste. Your King commands it."_ That familiar dominance was back in his voice, and Thranduil knew his demands and control aroused Legolas like nothing else. Often in Mirkwood, Thranduil had sat upon his throne and given commands to his soldiers and hunters in a cold voice edged with surety none could deny. He always knew what he was doing, and what he asked of his folk. That was the tone he took with Legolas now but it was not an unfriendly cruelty that came from his mind, rather the sound of a master giving orders to a respected servant he liked to play games with. There was no room for disobedience here, and Legolas knew it. How Thranduil loved to let his dominant side loose, even though he sometimes lost himself in a world of fantasy.

Legolas could not resist that commanding tone that sent fire through his veins and his skin ablaze. His own lust was kindled and Thranduil wrapped his legs about him so there was truly no choice but to do as he was told. When Thranduil lifted his hips the tip of the king's hard length pressed against his jaw. That wicked grin never left his face as he pressed his lips against the head of his father's arousal, allowing them to part slowly into the wet, hot caverns of his mouth and throat. His tongue worked, flickering at the underside of the hard rod of flesh.

 

A moan escaped his throat at the taste and intimacy of it all. He relaxed it and allow Thranduil deep before his throat rejected it and he came up with a cough. Legolas was only deterred for a moment, and pressed a flurry of kissing alongside of him, his fingers lightly teasing the base. _"I hunger for you... Stay still or my teeth might cut a little deeper than I mean to allow them to..."_

 _"Don't choke yourself..."_ Thranduil stroked Legolas's hair, fingers massaging the back of his neck _. "But what have I told you about playing with your food?"_ He kept himself as still as possible but just ached to writhe around at his son's touches. Those kisses were driving him close to the edge but kept light enough so that he was constantly being teased. Where his legs wrapped around Legolas's body, he brought his foot up to press at his butt.

 _"Don't you feel the need..?"_ If Legolas was as hard as Thranduil, that was some impressive self control he had to avoid touching himself and focus on the King. Thranduil was going to suggest something before his mind went blank, the feeling of a hot tongue at the tip of his cock erasing all thoughts in a second. He moaned loud and wanton up to the sky, trembling a little. It looked like Legolas wouldn't be hungry any more if this continued…

Legolas hissed between his teeth and around Thranduil as he felt his father's legs wrap tighter around him, sandwiching his own aching length between his belly and his own thigh. He was hard, screaming to be touched in some way, but he allowed himself to focus on Thranduil's pleasure for now for he knew his was close at hand if he pleased the King. His father could be a selfish lover, but Legolas cared not, for that selfishness must run in the blood of the House of Oropher, for the Prince could be a terribly self-serving individual as well when it came to his own sexual needs.

 _"I always feel the need... Do you not feel mine as I taste you and caress you?"_ Legolas dipped his golden head for another deep taste, his teeth lightly grazing Thranduil's cock before coming up again, pressing a kiss to the tip and looking at his father eagerly. There was a deliciously bitter and salty taste on the back of his tongue that only seemed to whet his appetite. He began to tease again, slowly, carefully, not wishing to bring Thranduil to the brink just yet, although he could feel the King was close. It had been quite some time and Legolas knew he would not be able to hold out long either when it came to his own pleasure. One slender hand moved up the length of the slick cock as he painted his lips with the tip of it. _"You think you have some measure of control here, meleth nin, but I feel like in this position I have the power over you."_

Thranduil was very quickly losing himself as Legolas spoke within his mind, lips at the head of his cock which leaked ever so slightly from how much the King held back. Here he knew Legolas could toy with him and he could do almost nothing, trapped between extended pleasure and the burning need for release.

"Oh you like that do you...?" he whispered, mind too fuzzy to clearly use their connection at this point "That feeling of control?" His voice went half a tone deeper as he braced himself on his elbows and looked into Legolas's eyes, panting a little with hair a complete mess. "You want me to beg for it, iôn?" Slowly Thranduil waved his length with slight movements of his hips, feeling it slip in Legolas's hands and brush against his lips.

Thranduil was so beautiful this way, disheveled and needy, his eyes dark, voice deep, cheeks flushed. Legolas relished the sight of him this way, imprinting the image into his mind. Gods, he was lovely though and Legolas smirked as Thranduil's cock brushed against his lips with a slow rock of the King's hips. He lifted his head slightly, avoiding him completely now to make a point.

 _"I do, meleth nin... for I am certain the voice you use to beg is even more lovely than the one you use to command me so. If you want me you must come and claim me."_ Legolas bared his teeth in a grin, his eyes as dark as the night sky. He pressed a single kiss to the tip of Thranduil's leaking length and pressed a finger firmly to the base to stave off any possible release. _"Your son commands this of you."_

Slowly Thranduil rose into a seated position, the finger at the tip of his cock sending chills through his body. At the sight of Legolas's grin he also bared his teeth, but it was an animalistic and primal urge he felt as if he would rip the Prince to pieces. A low growl rose from within his throat, eyes black with lust and hands reaching for his son.

_"I shall claim you… for you know you are mine. And you will remember it from this day forth."_

Thranduil grabbed Legolas by the shoulders and pulled him up just enough so he could sink his teeth into his neck, not drawing blood but leaving quite an obvious mark that would be difficult to hide. "Pants off…" he ordered, wanting to claim Legolas from behind as well. If he could not achieve release in one way then they would both do so in another.

Legolas braced himself for the oncoming storm. He was met with an animal force he almost did not expect and was pulled suddenly into the King's arms. Thranduil's teeth sunk into his neck suddenly, near his jugular and a sharp jolt like a small bolt of lightning coursed through Legolas' entire body. He felt a mark bloom where Thranduil's teeth were, and he knew immediately it was a place that would be almost impossible to hide and would draw curiosity and questions. And even then, he knew that Thranduil was well aware of it. It all thrilled Legolas beyond measure.

That smirk never left Legolas' lips as he ran his fingers over Thranduil's scalp and through his hair, forcing his hips towards the other. His eyes flickered in challenge. _"You want them off? You remove them, then. Your Prince commands it."_

Thranduil was too far gone to care for anything other than the feel of his son's flesh against his own, and he would get there at any cost. He gripped with near bruising force Legolas's hips, fingers locked in the waisband of his leggings. So eager he was to undress the Prince that his hands brought those leggings down with an audible rip, tearing them off until the fabric was in shreds around them both.

 _"You dare command your King..."_ he growled, _"Then reap what you sow."_ In a flash he had lunged forth and pressed Legolas to the ground, hands moving to spread his son's legs. They both wanted this, and Legolas had teased his father far enough. He did not wait, nor did he ask. Through their connection was all the consent and begging one could ask for. He pushed himself to the hilt deep inside Legolas without bothering to stretch, knowing any hurts could be healed come morning.

Legolas' leggings lay in shreds near his head, and for now the Prince did not concern himself with how he would explain that away either, how they would make it to wherever they were to go without being fully clothed. It didn't matter now, for all that was on Legolas' mind was what was coming, what he was asking and begging for. Thranduil was difficult to break, though his patience was easily broken and Legolas had always known just what buttons to press, and far he could push him until he got the reaction he sought.

Now, Thranduil more than delivered, and Legolas got the satisfaction of control in his own mind, even when the King maintained control over him physically. His legs were pushed apart and Legolas did not fight, but gripped Thranduil's hips with his hands, hard enough to bruise and he pulled him closer still. The entrance was sudden, hard and deep, and stung slightly. But Legolas could barely feel the pain above feeling of fulfillment and of connection between them, as alight and flaming as it was. He clenched his jaw and his muscles tightened as his golden head fell back into the sand. His body, his mind, and his hands urged Thranduil on as he reached to grasp himself between their bodies.

A string of curses, both Elvish and Westron, perhaps even some Dwarvish, spilled from his lips as he bucked up towards Thranduil. It was too much, the moment too precious to Legolas. He did not want it to end.

Thranduil rarely let his control slip and when he did, he often did things he would regret later on. He didn't know at this moment if he hurt Legolas or not but with the force he pounded into him with, he was sure if they'd been in Mirkwood an earthquake would have erupted beneath them. He grabbed Legolas's shoulders, for if he braced his hands in the sand they would both sink and the last thing anyone wanted was grains of sand up the butt. With every thrust and grunt he drew nearer to his own completion, having been incredibly close just moments before.

His head was bent over as was his upper body, silver hair swishing back and forth. Thranduil's back curved naturally as he dipped lower to be almost face to face with his son, brows furrowed and an absolutely _murderous_ glare in his eyes. This was the result of his lust, his hunger, his internal drive for Legolas. Even if it had been less than two weeks, he had built up a great need to fuck something and Legolas only teased him into a frenzied state to get some. Still, he pushed deeper until he was slamming into Legolas's most sensitive spot, the head of his cock poking at the bundle of nerves deep within.

Legolas' eyes squeezed shut as he clung to Thranduil's hips, feeling the way his body moved in a frenzy, the tips of his fingers feeling the King's buttocks clench and squeeze with each frantic push into him. He thrust was hard and almost cruelly given, driven by unadulterated lust and desire. The connection between their minds was buzzing and Legolas' mind was so jumbled that all thoughts and forms of speech were becoming incoherent. His chest was heaving and he felt Thranduil's silver hair brush against his cheeks. When his eyes opened he was staring straight into the beautifully terrifying glare that would turn him to stone if he were a weaker creature.

His lower body ached, and Legolas knew he would feel it in the morning. Each thrust stung and burned, but still Legolas urged his father on. He almost screamed when Thranduil found his mark, hitting that small bundle of nerves almost punishingly. Nails cut into soft flesh as Legolas back arched up towards Thranduil's, his muscles tightening and clenching, twisting and quivering. It did not take long for Legolas to lose complete control then, burying his face into Thranduil's neck and crying out his name, his voice hoarse and muffled as he spilled himself between them.

Thranduil smirked then and it seemed like a flash of madness crossed his face, teeth showing through his lips as he snarled something incoherent in elvish and released deep within his son. There was stickiness on his abdomen from Legolas and searing heat all around his length, causing him to tremble with the flood of sensations that threatened to knock him out.

"Ai, Legolas..." he breathed, slumping over as all his energy was spent. Slight pain prickled around his overused muscles and marked skin, from both bites and fingernails. Those would take quite a while to heal and he would need to be careful not to let anyone see him naked for about a week.

The cool wind blowing his hair to the side was refreshing against his heated body, and Thranduil felt like he was inside a furnace that happened to look like Legolas. It took him time to recollect himself, but all he could manage was an "ehh..." as he looked to his son.

Legolas barely registered anything Thranduil said before he felt the explosions within, blood pounding in his ears as he slumped down in the sand. His body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his belly and chest soaked with remnants of his own release. It took a few moments, but as the sensation of pleasure ebbed, the stinging of the marks on his neck and the rawness between his legs. His body was spent, and all of his muscles would be deliciously sore by morning. The marks would heal in time, and no permanent damage was done. Thranduil had always managed to be careful enough to leave nothing permanent on his son's flawless flesh. He seemed to hate the idea of anything marring his son for more than a few weeks.

He smiled slightly at the King as he flung an arm over him, his fingertips lightly caressing the other's cheek. Legolas' eyes scanned down Thranduil's body and he blushed lightly at the sight of some of the more aggressive marks. "Forgive me, Adar... I may have gotten slightly carried away."

Rolling onto his back Legolas stared up at the sky. Clouds were beginning to cover the stars. _"It may not be our best option to sleep beneath the skies tonight..."_

Thranduil grunted and looked for his robes to wipe himself with, before remembering he would have to wear those to wherever they went next. He looked to Legolas, signs of their debauchery all over his fine body. And then he sensed clouds gathering overhead, as if the Valar were in a stormy mood for the two elves who had taken pleasure in each other's body on the sacred shores.

 _"I do hope we will be half decent when we go... oh, gods. Are we going back to your mother's place?"_ Thranduil tugged his leggings up and sniffed Legolas behind his neck, like a puppy catching scent of delicious food. " _We both reek of the sea, sweat and sex. Wherever can we go?"_

The scent of an oncoming storm was in the air, Legolas could almost taste it. Darker clouds rolled in and threatened to take the moon as well for now. The Prince reached for his tunic and the shreds in his leggings, frowning for a moment at them. These certainly would not do. He extended a hand to Thranduil, towards his robe. _"I doubt I can get away with wearing naught but a tunic wherever we go. Would you be so willing as to lend your son your robes? You have leggings that are not just strips at least."_

Legolas shivered as he felt Thranduil's nose in his neck. He had no idea where they should go. He knew they could not just leave Liliel. _"We cannot go to your father this night. I sense a storm and we do not even know where he is."_ Standing, Legolas stretched slowly, wincing slightly as the rain began to fall. " _I do not think we shall reek of the pleasures of the flesh by the time we get back. Things will be different in the morning light. She will worry if neither of us show up by morning. Do you have a better idea?"_

Thranduil sighed heavily, scooping up his robes and parting the cloak from the body of the garment. He handed the robes to his son, and wrapped the cloak around himself. _"Wear these and I will pretend I have something underneath."_ said he, used to wearing curtain drapery as fashionable clothing. _"If it rains on us, any stains or scents will hopefully be washed away. Now if she asks where we have been, say that I found you wandering far and brought you back home."_

He looked down at himself and straightened the creases in his leggings, before adjusting his cloak to make it look like he was a piece of meat inside a burrito. Warmth and decency went hand in hand with this style, and he spared a glance to Legolas's shredded leggings.

_"I can't believe I did that.."_

Legolas gratefully took the robes and wrapped them around himself. They were not laughably large on him, but Thranduil was a head taller than Legolas. But they were long and flowing by nature so the Prince could get away with the improper sizing. As they began to walk along the beach it was easy to find the way back to Liliel's home. You followed the shore to the west, and Legolas could still catch sight of some of their footprints in the sand that had not yet been fully consumed by the waves. Her house was on the westernmost part of the great island, standing alone from the others. In the distance, keen eyes told Legolas that it was dark. He had lost all track of time, and he imagined though, based on the height of the moon in the sky, that it was quite late. As they tried to get their stories straight, Legolas laughed softly. _"*If* she questions us, then yes, that will be my story. But from the looks of it, all lights are out. She is likely still asleep. I will not be laying in bed beside her. You must keep your own story straight."_

The rain was beginning to fall and it was warm and gentle like the rains of the summer. Legolas turned his face to wards the sky and savored the feelings for a moment. When Thranduil made mention of his leggings, Legolas tossed the shredded garment to his father with a smirk. _"I supposed I asked for it but you really did lose all self-control. It looks like I've still got it even in my old age."_

 _"You, old?"_ Thranduil scoffed, wondering where he could hide those destroyed leggings. _"Please, you're barely more than a leaf on a tree that's withstood millennia of storms. Not even half my age, and you're talking like an old man..."_ The rain on his head was calming and soon his face also turned to feel light, warm droplets falling upon his skin. Thranduil's fingers crept around his son's waist and held him close, shoulder to shoulder.

 _"Like an old man?"_ It was Legolas' turn to snort and scoff now. _"Now you wound me, Adar. I was only implying that muscles shall ache as though they had not been used in a millennia come morning."_ He knew Thranduil would feel it too. The rain and wind picked up as they drew closer to Liliel's house, and at this distance all seemed quiet. She was likely asleep. He felt as though he was sneaking around like some rebellious child sneaking back into bed after a long night of partying without permission.

 _"Don't make me do that again..."_ Thranduil murmured, almost feeling a little guilty. _"It is unbecoming of me... had I drank more wine this night you may have not survived that."_ They both would be aching inside and out come morning, and they were going to go on an adventure across Aman that very same day! Granted, there was little danger and not more than six hours on foot to the mountains, but both Thranduil and Legolas had been through much since the minute of their rebirth and Thranduil honestly just wanted to warp back to his bedroom in Mirkwood and rest. He felt a warm, sensual burn throughout his body yet it was still too early for him to be comfortable with burning of any sort. Wishing a dullness to his senses, Thranduil squeezed Legolas a little closer. They were nearing the path to Liliel's home, and Thranduil caught the familiar floral scents he remembered from hours ago.

He just hoped she wasn't awake with a frying pan in hand and nasty smirk on face.

Even the voice became a little quieter in their connection, almost as though Legolas feared that she would be able to hear it at this distance, or from anywhere at all. Legolas leaned into Thranduil as they walked, exchanging a glance and a smile. _"I've dealt with worse, Adar... Had it been my way I would have pumped you with a few more bottles of wine."_ Legolas' eyes glittered slightly in the rain. He did not fear Thranduil, even at his worst, even if it was foolish to lull himself into that sense of security around the other.

Turning his attention back to the door he sighed or a moment, exchanging glances with his father before peeking his head inside. The door had been left unlocked, for Liliel had no reason to secure the door here in Aman. The strong floral smell hit his nostrils and the house was dark. Keen blue eyes searched the dark for any sign of movement, though he could sense his mother was close. The home was small, so it made it even more difficult to pinpoint where the smell was coming from. He paused for a moment, listening carefully. The soft, even breath of sleep could be heard in the next room. "If my senses serve me well, mother is fast asleep. I shall take the couch tonight." He shot Thranduil a grin and made his way towards the large sofa in the middle of the room. Thranduil would certainly have a more difficult time climbing into bed next to Liliel.

Thranduil hoped his ninja skills were up to speed as he shot Legolas a look, one that said _"I'm so screwed and you know it."_ His thoughts threatened to wander to what their next time would be like - he was sure Legolas would give him plenty of wine and affection before playing his mind like nothing else. Oh, he had to focus.

The floorboards were silent as were his footsteps, one hand trailing along the wall in this environment he barely knew. Sneaking was not his strong point; he was either making a grand, fabulous entrance and wowing all with his presence or standing so still in plain sight you could think he was a statue. Slowly Thranduil crept, like a thief in the darkness towards Liliel's bedroom. The door was unlocked, as he'd expected. And he was wet from the rain, along with his earlier activities with Legolas.

Thranduil had always slept nude; not doing so would arouse suspicion. But if he did and Liliel saw him before he woke (always a light sleeper, taking into account the resting habits of elves) there would be much to explain. And how Thranduil loathed explaining himself - he was a King, he could do whatever he wanted, reason or not. Though he usually did things with good reason just for the morality of it.

Thranduil prayed to the Valar that this would go well, and swore he almost heard a voice answer " _Nope_ " in return. He cast his slightly damp robes to the floor, bare from the waist up. Liliel appeared to be sleeping, beautiful and calm as she'd always been. With a soft sigh, Thranduil picked up the edge of the covers and silently slipped in beside her. So far, so good.

Legolas caught Thranduil's look and chuckled to himself. He had faith in his father, though this really was no laughing matter. If Liliel saw her husband's body as it was there was a lot of questioning he would have to answer to, and Legolas was not certain that that would go as well as either of them hoped. He moved onto the couch silently, not remembering the last time he had slept on a couch, if ever. He pulled a nearby blanket over himself, tightening Thranduil's robes around him. He could not sleep however, even though his body was exhausted. His mind was racing and all senses on high alert as he listened for sounds in the next room. One could never be too certain.


	16. 4-5 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written Jan 20-22 2015

Liliel had only stirred for a moment as the door creaked open. She had been so angry that it had exhausted her and she had gone to bed in a huff, unable to remember the last time she had been so frustrated. Things seemed to prove easier when she had been alone all this time. Much to Thranduil's likely dismay, the former Queen of Mirkwood was a very light sleeper, as were most of their kin. The bed dipped just slightly beside her and for a moment panic slipped into her mind. She could not remember the last time she had felt that sensation and blue eyes flew open in the darkness. 

She reached out immediately, calming herself when she made out Thranduil in the darkness. She reached out to touch his arm, his skin slightly damp and cold. Liliel frowned, but then listened for a moment and heard the rain and rustling of the wind outside. There was a soft sigh into the dark and her voice was a quiet whisper. "I was certain you would not come back to me tonight... Did the rain bring you back to me?"

"It did." said Thranduil, his voice a soft murmur and body flinching slightly at Liliel's touch. Shivers ran along his skin, like insects scuttling away from the nearby warmth. Ah, going to sleep damp was never a good idea. Though elves didn't catch colds, he was wary of the effects an uncomfortable rest could have on the body. Where refreshment and energisation would normally occur, a drained feeling of lifelessness would overtake him if he didn't sleep properly. It had happened many times to Oropher who rarely slept, Thranduil had seen it for himself the terrible outcome and appearance of one who suffered thus. 

Long had it been since Thranduil had lain with a woman. He was hesitant to touch Liliel, sure that she would cut his face off if he even got close. He said nothing more, a quiet feeling of dread seeping into his body. 

Liliel's senses were keen as any elf. She could smell the sea and the rain on her husband, amongst something else that she did not quite recognize. Something strangely familiar yet so foreign to her nose. She felt him flinch from her touch and, startled, removed her hand. Thranduil appeared to shiver and she reached her slender hand out again to touch his chest, her own fingers soft and warm. "You are shaking..."

Her frown deepened. "Come. I shall draw a bath for you... None should have to try and sleep in such a state." No, it would not do. They had had their differences today and many centuries before, but Liliel was not cruel and did not wish to see Thranduil suffer. She had already asked much of him, to give up his grand and magnificent lifestyle for something so much less than that.

Liliel retracted her hand and stood silently then, moving into the bathroom down the hall. It was one of the larger rooms of the small house, and a large claw-footed soaking tub of silver engraved with flowers and shells was at the center of the bathroom. It was the most beautiful piece of furniture Liliel thought that she owned. It had been forged shortly after she first arrived, and the inner part of the tub was lined with mother of pearl. A large window overlooked the tub, lined with sheer white curtains that allowed a relatively clear view of the outside while allowing no one to see in. During the day it felt like a private place, as Liliel was already far removed from the other huts nearby. As she ran the bath with hot water, she could see the storms roll across the beach and lightning crash on the waves. It had been some time since she had seen a storm. She half wondered if Thranduil had brought them with him.

When the bath had filled she added some oils to it, lavender and jasmine and sweet citrus, swirling them with her finger. Inhaling, the scent of these oils had always relaxed her. In her time of mourning, they had been what kept Liliel grounded. She moved back into the room to alert Thranduil. "It is ready for you, my husband." She paused for a moment, frowning slightly. "Where is Legolas? Is he safe?"

"Legolas is asleep on the couch. I assure you, he is safe." said Thranduil, gently brushing past Liliel as if he were a ghost. Calming fragrances reached his nose and he took a deep breath, sighing it back out as he entered the bathroom. What he saw was shine and sparkle, appreciating the fanciness for what it was. The cloak fell to the floor and he stepped out of his leggings, sinking down into the clear water. He hoped the steam would obscure the rather painful-looking marks upon his skin, and hissed slightly as he felt heat envelope his tender body. Thranduil did quite enjoy a hot bath though, and soon relaxed entirely. Worries melted away as he closed his eyes, imagining he was in a hot spring amidst a bright garden of flowers. 

Liliel smiled at that, knowing that Legolas was safe. She gave her husband his privacy as he undressed and did not turn to him until he was fully submerged in the bath. Steam rose from the surface and obscured most of his pale body from view, though Liliel did not wish to admit that her eyes did, in fact, wander down into the water below. She knelt beside the tub and reached out to carefully touch the long, silver hair that hung over the edge, placing it into the tub. She did not understand why she felt so strange touching her own husband. Perhaps it was the distance she had placed between them, but there was also an air of dread and uncertainty that she had felt radiating from Thranduil earlier. Now, he seemed far more relaxed, and Liliel could to help her suspicions.

It was very much like elves to wander outside in nature, but she had never known Thranduil to be one to wander. Realizing that she had been silent for too long, deep in thought, she asked him absently, her voice soft. "Is there anything more I can get you?"

"No..." he murmured, running his hands over his arms then chest with fluid grace. Ah, it felt absolutely wonderful to be so warm after being a little too cool for comfort from the rain. "I did not want to wake nor trouble you." Thranduil felt his hair being placed into the tub and looked aside, noticing Liliel watching him. He normally would've smirked and asked her if she liked what she saw, however scrutiny upon his body at this moment was something to be avoided. If she asked where he had been, what could he say? He was not one to aimlessly wander, he did things for purpose and pleasure whenever he felt like it. Perhaps he could say he'd gone to find Legolas. That was their plan, and it would probably work. Liliel did love to ask questions and know everything, though. Thranduil would have to be careful. 

And question was exactly what Liliel did. Thranduil was not acting himself. He was acting strange and almost secretive. She had been almost painfully transparent earlier, but here Thranduil sat, continuing to hide behind the mask he created for himself. "You did not trouble me. My thoughts were troubled as to where you had decided to go in a storm such as this."

She remained behind him, running her fingertips absentmindedly through his silver hair. It was finer than her own, thicken and silken. Thick, full, and cared for well. It was just one part of Thranduil that many had envied Liliel for the ability to touch when she saw fit after they had married.

"You have changed more than I thought then, my husband, if you decide that your idea of pleasure for the evening is wandering a stormy shore in the middle of the night."

"I needed a walk... To clear my thoughts." he sighed and closed his eyes, looking an absolute picture of indulgence with a hand over his chest and almost dreamy smile on his lips. Liliel's fingers in his hair were deeply relaxing as well as pleasurable, and she was one of the five people Thranduil could truly enjoy touching his hair. It was a precious and beautiful thing he considered such an important part of himself, he made an active effort to mentally restrict its growth so it wouldn't touch the floor like Oropher's. He had to keep his hair as clean as possible at all times, after all. Such was the way of the Sindar. 

Hair culture aside, Thranduil knew Liliel was curious as to where he'd gone. She always wanted to know everything she could about him, the good and the bad. Mostly the bad. He wondered if she'd ever considered him a threat to Legolas, and interrogated him to be sure of his mental state. He'd always tried to assure her that he was nothing but perfect, and offered all the love he had to give to her. 

Liliel's fingers continued to move absently as she listened to Thranduil's vague explanation. He was careful not to elaborate and it frustrated her to no end. She closed her eyes for a moment and told herself to inhale, to relax, and breathe in the fragrant and relaxing scent of the oils. She did not say anything, but removed her hands and stood. She moved silently to the door and closed it, before turning to face Thranduil. She was donned in a sleeping robe of light blue like the sky, the fabric similar to that of the curtains. It was tied tightly around her slender waist. She stood before Thranduil now, her eyes narrowing.

"Do you truly think you can live under the same roof as me and expect to just shrug off my questions, as though short and vague answers are enough?" Her voice was quiet, not wishing to wake Legolas. "I know my words hurt you earlier but you must know that was not my intention. But you are acting like a child right now, Thranduil. Regardless of it all, you are still my  _husband_."

Thranduil couldn't help but whine a little when those fingers were removed from his hair, and opened his eyes to see Liliel standing by the door looking a little upset. Ah, so this was how they were going to play it. 

"Come now, meleth nín..." he murmured, voice low and a smirk barely there "Why do you not ask me something direct if you want detailed answers?" Thranduil knew fully well he could be an ass but  _childish_  was pushing it, just a little. He shrugged off the accusation to avoid conflict, but remembered it for later. 

His hands dipped beneath the water and trailed down his thighs, massaging the insides as the muscles were rather stiff. Thranduil hadn't had exercise like this in a while, only naturally his legs had begun to get a little tense. "Mmm..." he sighed and focused once more on relaxing, able to take himself deep into another place where questions and worries could not hurt him. 

Liliel's fair features became icy. She felt that Thranduil was not taking her seriously. She had expected it, but it did not mean that she was not frustrated by it. She watched the King dip his hands into the water, his actions shrouded by steam. She took a step closer and looked at him carefully. Slowly, she knelt down before the tub, resting her arms over the edge of the tub. Her fingertip trailed over the surface of the water, breaking it slightly. 

"Why did you leave like that? Who were you meeting? Where did you go?" She sighed, shooting questions at Thranduil left and right. She would not settle until she had details, even if the King lied through his teeth. Anything would be better than nothing at all. "You know I want these answers. It is the least you can do for me. If anything, give me honesty, Thranduil. I feel like I am deserving enough."

"I left because I felt trapped, walked to set my thoughts straight, and came across Legolas along the shore. I brought him back here just as the storm broke." said Thranduil, thumbs rubbing circles into the soft skin of his thighs. He wished for a massage, or perhaps a few affectionate gestures. Liliel however seemed intent on getting answers from him and the King sighed heavily enough to make his whole upper body sink.

 "Would you like details of the weight of each grain of sand I stepped upon, or the frequency of the waves crashing against the shore?" he asked, thinly veiled irritation seeping through his steady voice. Thranduil was very glad Liliel couldnot read his mind, as he was thinking back to the feel of his hands in Legolas's hair, silk peppered with sand and the searing heat as they lay down together. A slow smile had begun to spread across his face, and he let his mind wander. 

Liliel tried approaching this from a different point of view and moved behind Thranduil now, on her knees as she gently forced his head downwards, moving her slender hands over the muscles of his shoulders. She could sense his irritation but she cared not for it. "No, I would not. And I don't care for your  _attitude_ , Thranduil." She dug a thumb slightly into the space between his shoulder blades, meaning to work out a knot she found, but also using the pressure to emphasize her next question.

"But it does not explain why you carry such a grin upon your face. Do you find this situation humorous?"

"Ahgn--" He grunted as the pressure between his shoulder blades snapped him out of his reverie, focusing again on Liliel's words. Gods, he could simply not get Legolas out of his mind. 

"I don't find this humorous... no.." Thranduil muttered with his head bent like a defeated child, shoulders unusually tense. Somehow he felt as if a wrong answer would earn him a knockout jab to the side of his neck. His hands fluttered up to his face and ran fingers along thick eyebrows, straightening them before moving to wash his hair. 

"I was thinking of... Pleasant things."

Liliel's hands moved down Thranduil's back, beneath the water, feeling the tense muscles twitch slightly beneath her fingers. She moved them upwards against Thranduil's neck, her fingertips sliding easily over wet skin.

"And I assume those pleasant things do not involve anything we discussed the evening before or at this very moment." She said cooly. It was more of a statement than a question. She knew. "You know you do not have to stay here with me. Your unhappiness is obvious. Though clearly there is someone else... someone you are not telling me of, who makes you smile so."

Any remnants of Thranduil's smile vanished and he gazed down at his hands, now knotted together in his lap. He was still, and saw his reflection in the water. Thranduil looked absolutely depressed, and didn't even bother to hide it. So Liliel knew there was another in her husband's heart, and would accept it? He could not detect any obvious jealousy nor care in her voice, so matter-of-fact it was. 

Nor could he find words to speak - an  _"I love you and you only_ " would screw him into the next plane of existence, the truth about Legolas would screw him far beyond rebirth. No matter what he thought of, he could not win. He groaned quietly, putting his face in his hands. 

Liliel removed her hands and ran them over the front of her gown moving to face Thranduil now. She could not, for the life of her, understand who couldhave stolen Thranduil's heart. Was it someone he came to Aman with? It couldn't have been someone he had just met. Was it the elf he had gone to meet secretly in the night before he discovered Legolas wandering the beach? There were so many questions and she did not wish to interrogate Thranduil further, as miserable as she looked.  
  
She just stared at him, frowning. She didn't understand what she was feeling. Was there some jealousy there? Perhaps. But Thranduil desiring to connect with another only made sense since she had been gone from his life for so long. The fact that he was so secretive and so clearly unhappy with her hurt, but she knew she hadn't been much better to her husband, who even in life was not the light in her eye. It had been Legolas all along.

Thranduil wished he had his father's ignoring tactics and magical barriers to prevent the deluge of feels that washed over him, leaving muddy trails of despair at the bottom of his heart. Those familiar thoughts came back - that Liliel did not love him, did not trust him, that her heart could belong to any other but him - and how terribly they hurt his tender soul. He knew she stared at him and looked back - she was close enough for him to read, yet not as clear as she'd been so many millennia ago. 

 

He looked into her eyes as best he could, still unable to focus entirely. His eyes seemed stubborn on not forming a connection through a shared gaze, always veering off track whenever Thranduil looked at his wife.  In her eyes he couldsee many things. Unasked questions, hints of suspected betrayal, distrust and yes there was a drop of jealousy mixed in too. His gaze had faded to a creamy lilac colour, signifying an emotional descent he would not recover from any time soon. Thranduil was soon swallowed up into his thoughts, and slowly sank until only his head was visible above the surface of the water. He crossed his legs, and they poked over the edge of the tub. Now he was just peeping at his wife, hiding what he could of his face. He was ever so vulnerable under her scrutinous glare... and he couldn't bear it. 

Liliel watched as Thranduil sunk deeper into the tub, his eyes changing in such a way that she knew she was probably being blocked further from his life. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the tub, gripping so tightly her pale knuckles turned even whiter still. And then, she did not understand how or why, but a single tear escaped her eye. As though she knew but did not truly know, all of her husband's betrayals. Her lack of love and desire for intimacy had been obvious the entire time, though Thranduil hadnever seen it, he had looked far past it for something he had so desperately hoped was there between them.

Then, another tear dared to fall down a pale cheek and another, and another still, until the dam broke. Liliel hung her golden head, reaching up to futilely wipe the wetness from her face with her fingertips. She could not find the words, did not know what to say or ask to make things right again. This was not how it was supposed to be. There was supposed to be hope here, in this next life, but here Liliel found none.

Thranduil watched Liliel cry, and it very nearly broke his heart. He saw then that he brought her only misery, as she did him. He loved her. She did not want anything from him other than answers to her questions. He did not understand her. She was hurt. 

So many things at this moment confused him, and Thranduil didn't know what to do. His hand rose from the water and gently closed around the one Liliel still held clutching the edge of the tub, hoping to bring her attention away from her inner torment just for a moment. 

"I will be leaving tomorrow..." he said quietly, his head out of the water just enough for him to speak clearly "You and I clearly have no place together at this time. Legolas may choose his path as he wishes... I shall go and live with my father." A voice in Thranduil's head told him he should feel bad for using this moment as an opportunity to escape, but he saw no other way. And it  _was_ better than running off with Legolas in the morning, was it not?

Liliel flinched as she felt Thranduil's wet hand close around her own, and despite herself, her shoulders moved with the force of her quiet sobs. She had never broken down like this before andcould not understand, for the life of her, why. She knew they clearly had no place together, that she was not the woman he had seen all those millennia ago, the one he fell in love with. Frankly, Liliel did not know if she had ever truly been that person. Not anymore. Everything was too confusing. It hurt. When Thranduil mentioned that he would go to Oropher and Legolas was to choose his own way, Liliel knew that mean she would not be able to follow, even if she wanted to. She always knew how Oropher felt about her.

Slowly, she removed her hand and stood, her face wet with tears that did not feel like her own. "Very well." Was all she said, wanting to tell him to go, that she did not wish to see him again, but the thunder roared outside and she knew she could not do that without feeling more guilty than she already did. Liliel turned then and left the bathroom to lay back in her bed, leaving Thranduil alone in the tub. She wrapped herself with her blankets and shivered, her heart cold.

Thranduil closed his eyes and listened to the storm raging outside. Were the Valar going to rip him out of Liliel's house on a gust of wind and throw him into the sea, lecture him while drowning underwater for ruining someone's life? He smirked at the macabre images that floated through his mind. Would he plead for his miserable existence or let it happen? He'd been through fire long enough. Maybe he needed to get wet. 

He rose from the tub after a while, his muscles relaxed yet heart tense. There was a mirror nearby of silver and bordered with shells he looked in, and caught sight of the marks on his body. 

" _Still lookin' fine.."_  he said to himself, running hands down his waist. Thranduil soon grabbed a towel and once he was dry he wrapped himself in it to sleep in. Liliel would not accept him beside her now. The couch was his place tonight. 

Legolas had heard everything. Every whispered words to his mother's pained sobs that were nearly silent. He heard her bare feet pad into the bedroom as she shut the door behind her, and Thranduil stand from the tub. He heard the droplets on the floor. Sitting up slowly as the storm raged outside, Legolas knew he would not sleep tonight. But he wanted morning more than to run, than to take Thranduil by the hand and let the storm envelope them as they ran to a new home.  
  
Nothing was here for his father now. He had known how greatly the King had loved his mother and it made Legolas resentful to know those feelings were not returned at all. That she had been leading him all this time. Nothing was here for Thranduil, and so nothing was here for Legolas either. He stood slowly. Turning to face his father in the darkness, pale skin illuminated by the flashes of lightning. He didn't know what to say to him, if there was anything he coulddo as his son and lover to make things right, for these hurts ran deep. All hecould do is offer him warmth through their connection, his arms open for an embrace, should Thranduil care to.

Thranduil still held the belief that somewhere Liliel could possibly love him - they were just going through a rough patch, is all. He was allowed to feel upset about such things, they would always get better right? Thus he told himself empty words and dug a deeper pit to bury his emotions in. 

Legolas stood before him, and Thranduil had never wanted to break down and cry so hard before in his life. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his son, pressing them up close together. And suddenly their connection was flooded with such agony, Thranduil could not hold back what he felt inside. His body was stiff and face placid but within his mind he was in excruciating torment. Barely there was the warmth of Legolas, like a steaming slice of pie beneath thick, cold cream. Thranduil was in no condition to wade through the sludge of his hurts to get a clear connection with his son, let his heartache be healed. There was just so, so much. And he knew it burdened Legolas, making him only feel worse. 

"I am sorry," he whispered, "I fucked up."

Legolas could feel Thranduil's agony as though it was his own, and in a way, it was. He felt joined and connected to Thranduil's mind like he had no other, even though they lacked an official bond. His father embraced him tightly and Legolas' own arms held him strong, burying his face into the sweet smells of the King's damp hair. The sadness Thranduil felt was all-consuming and Legolas did all that he could to lift him, to support him, as the King had done for him countless times before. He was painfully reminded of when his father first suffered his injuries following Liliel's death, though this time it felt different, and Legolas couldn't describe it.

He pressed his lips to Thranduil's temple, speaking softly to him as he hushed him quietly. It was not safe to speak aloud here, for he was certain Liliel was not asleep after what Legolas had just witnessed. He held Thranduil tight and guided him quietly out the door and onto the porch where there was an overhang to protect them from the rain. Thunder rolled and lightning cracked on the sea, and Legolas held his father tight to help him weather the storm.

"You have nothing to apologize for.." He whispered into his ear, not trusting Thranduil to hear him over their connection, as burdened as it was. Legolas pulled back slightly, forcing the King's chin in his direction to look at him. He was not even certain hecould understand the pain Thranduil felt now, for the one he was so utterly in love with did not shun him, was not cold towards him or claimed no love for him. Thranduil would never do that to him. They were made for one another, of that, Legolas was certain. But Legolas tried to understand... Oh, he tried so hard. "I love you, lirimaer. It is all that matters, isn't it?"

Slowly Thranduil nodded, though his heart still ached for Liliel. He did not want to admit it but Legolas was essentially all he had - surely nobody could ever love him like this, be there for him in these darkest of dark times. 

He pulled the towel a little closer around himself and twined fingers in Legolas's hair, taking the Prince's golden head to rest over his shoulder. The closer they were, the stronger their connection. 

"My precious little leaf.." he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as a flash of lightning lit the sky with a resounding crack of thunder following "You are all I have. We must leave in the morning... your mother will not accept me." Legolas would need to explain to Liliel that he would not be staying with her if he decided such, as Thranduil felt he would be in no condition ever to speak to her again. Talking out their feelings never worked between the two of them. It always ended in pain. 

Legolas pressed as tightly as he could to the King, so close that the gentle breeze of the storm could barley squeeze between their bodies. Thranduil was hot to the touch, smelling sweet and of flowers. Legolas still smelled like salt and the sea. The combination of the two was strange, and foreign to the Prince's nostrils. He rested his head upon Thranduil's shoulder, his arms holding his waist tightly, pressing his lips lightly to his neck, just beneath the lightly bloomed mark he had made. "We will leave in the morning. I will speak to her and I will tell her that I seek to beon my own." He turned his head to the side to watched the waves crash on the shore. All he wanted was to leave now, storm bedamned. Liliel could figure out on her own that he had left. He feared that he would say something to her he regretted. 

 

"I will always follow you, Adar. You could not rid yourself of me if you tried." He kissed the King's cheek and took his father's hands into his own. "There is a sun that always comes after a storm."

Thranduil agreed with his son on that - the sun after a storm was indeed a thing to look forward to. They would travel with that light, bright and guiding across the lands of Aman. 

Legolas was incredibly comforting to the grieving Elvenking, finding as if a part of him had died with his wife's rejection of their love. Hell, she hadn't even said much about it but he could feel and read from the situation that they probably shouldn't stay together for very long at this point in time. It was the hope he clung to that would destroy him. 

 

But at least he had Legolas. A dependency would begin to form, stronger than anything in his wounded heart. For after the storm there was sun, but the sun still burned. 

 

Thranduil squeezed Legolas's hands in his own and gestured to the living room. 

"We shall have to take separate couches tonight.." he murmured, "I am sureyour mother would not want to see me pressed up against you from behind as if... Well, you know."

Legolas stood rooted in place for a moment, even as Thranduil gestured to the living room. He turned his face towards the wind, feeling the spray of rain and sea water hit his features. An idea hit him that was farfetched, perhaps a little bit crazy, and something he was almost certain his father would not agree to. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Thranduil on the couch across from him to spend a sleepless night alone and aching. The King was toofragile now, and Legolas would take the blame upon himself if Thranduil did not sleep. It would make the journey tomorrow near impossible.

 

"Why don't we just leave? Tonight? In the storm. We will seek a place amongst the trees for shelter." He turned to look at Thranduil, his own hands tightening around his. "What good will it do you to stay here another night? It will only eat away at you. Ican see it happening now. I won't stand for it."

"You say you will not stand, but here you are.. on your feet, before me." Thranduil took a hand and cupped Legolas's cheek, pressing lightly with his thumb against soft skin. 

"I am tired, iôn nín... Not as young as you, yet not needing as much sleep as an elfling. I think it would be best for us to stay here... If you run away with me, your mother will scour every blade of grass on the ground for you until you are found." He knew Liliel would hunt them down, and did not much feel like going out in that storm again. Sure, he enjoyed the feel of rain upon his skin but his body just yearned to lie down. 

"Just a few hours of sleep. Nothing more..." 

Legolas sighed heavily, but could not deny his father, not this time. He leaned in to press a kiss to the King's lips before withdrawing. He moved into the darkness of the living room with him, taking up a spot on one of the large chaises opposite of the couch, leaving the other, as well as the sofa, open to the King should he choose. He curled up on it and tightened Thranduil's robes around himself. The storm was starting to soften and die, and Legolas wanted nothing more than for the sunlight to come so they could depart. 

 _"Nothing more."_ Legolas' eyes were already becoming heavy, his muscles relaxing. 

When the morning came, Thranduil could think of nothing more than a hot meal and awakening in his room back in Mirkwood. It was sunrise, and he felt a dull pain in his lower body as well as his head. 

" _Legolas_." he whispered through their connection, without opening his eyes or moving an inch " _Are you ready_?"

He had never done anything like this before. If they were to escape before Liliel awakened (Thranduil had no clue what time she awoke anyway as he was always the first) they would have to be quick, maybe take some food and run faster than the wind. If needed, Thranduil had enough magical strength here to take his elk form without need for crown or garments and hopefully be able to bear Legolas away as far from Liliel as possible. All he had to do was follow his senses, and find the next largest collection of Sindar elves. Shouldn't be too difficult... Or so he thought. 

Legolas stirred slightly as he felt Thranduil's connection and his voice in his head. His eyes flew open with a start. There was no sun shining through the windows on this day, and instead the skies were cloudy and grey, as though another storm was a strong possibility. His lower body ached something awful, a sharp pain and dull throb that he hadn't remembered experiencing for centuries. Legolas' fingers reached to touch the mark on his neck, hissing slightly as the bruised skin was tender. He frowned slightly, only imagining how Thranduil felt, for he had done quite a number on the soft flesh of his waist and hips in the heat of their passion. He stayed still for a moment, listening. He could not tell what time it was, but Liliel sounded blessedly asleep. " _I am ready..."_

It was then that Legolas stood slowly, wincing slightly as he searched for something to write a note on. If he did not speak to her in person this was the least he could do. She deserved to know where he had gone, for Thranduil had already told her of his plans. Legolas, although he held much against his mother at the moment, felt that he at least owed it to her to let her know he was safe and somewhere far away. " _Are you?"_ He scribbled something on a piece of parchment, apologizing to Liliel for leaving, and that he was safe and was finding a nearby group of elves to live with, to explore on his own like he had always wanted. It was partially true, at least. His heart was racing slightly. They would have to hurry.

" _Yes. I need something to wear that isn't a towel.. Damn it. We have not thought this through..."_  Thranduil almost snickered at the thought of the great Elvenking running through the Undying Lands wearing nothing but a towel, with his son sprinting after him. What a sight they would seem!

" _We will also need food.. Unless these lands are not as vast as Middle-Earth, and we may find a place to stay within a few hours."_

Thranduil slowly rose from where he lay, looking down at himself. The towel was loosely around his waist and marks bloomed like pink flowers across his milky white skin. He sighed, wondering what people might think. A little voice whispered to him - " ** _I don't care_**."

Thranduil was right. They hadn't thought a damned thing through. Running about in robes that did not quite fit and Thranduil running about in a towel was not something that would be a good idea or very inconspicuous. " _You at least have a pair of leggings. Mine however, are nothing but ribbons."_ He imagined Liliel did not have any extras laying around. This was already turning out to be a disaster. Legolas waved his hand. " _Surely we will find food. Most importantly is clothing right now."_

Despite the small amount of panic that Legolas felt, the sight of the marks on Thranduil's skin made him smile slightly. It was an overcast and dreary day, but he was with his father, they were going to go on an adventure of sorts, and the memory of last night's passion was enough to fuel Legolas on.  _"I will just wear these... perhaps we will find a spare pair lying around on the way."_ He moved silently into the bathroom and grabbed the discarded pair of leggings lying next to the empty tub. He tossed them to Thranduil.  _"Put these on."_

Thranduil slipped his leggings on in an instant, also reminding Legolas to get his fallen cloak from the bathroom. Once they were both somewhat presentable, the King reached for his son's hand. 

" _Let us go now, and be free_." Without further ado he pulled Legolas out the door, their slender bodies easily passing though the gap without making so much as a creak. There were not many elves outside at this early hour, certainly none Thranduil recognised. It seemed luck had favoured them for now.

Legolas followed Thranduil outside. The air was damp from the storm the night before, the skies grey, but the land surrounding them no less beautiful. And yes, Legolas was happy for freedom, freedom from his father's heavy mind and heavier heart. Thranduilcould live out his days here in peace as he had always wished it. Legolas wished for it too, to some extent, but above all else wished to see Thranduil happy. He would quell his own desires for adventures in Valinor, for there would be no beasts to slay with bow or blade. The quiet was nice but the Prince had a free spirit and would one day wish for more, as he always had.

It was quiet this morning, just as the sun had risen. They were moving now to the east, and Legolas relished in the wet sand beneath bare feet. He had often sought out mud puddles when he was young. He still felt as though he had an affinity for them. They would eventually come upon the settlements of the Sindar. " _I hope you know where you are going, Adar..."_

Thranduil shrugged, squinting into the distance. 

" _Not really. But how far can these lands stretch, hm? We can only go so far before reaching elves or Valar somewhere and then we may ask for directions."_ Cool winds gently blew his hair in silvery blonde streams behind him, the reddish glow of the sun ahead signalling their direction. Elves could not beharmed by staring into the sun; their eyes were made to interpret the signs of nature and find their way around. Thranduil wasn't used to such light beaming into his sight however and remained squinting. 

The King thought some things to himself. Legolas could never be still in oneplace for long, always wanting to explore and experience all corners of the world with an adventurous heart. Could he truly be happy for the rest of his life in Valinor? Thranduil wanted to give his son the best life he could, forever. Somehow he felt he was failing. 

Legolas reached to take Thranduil's hand as he too, used the sun as a guide. It was something he had become very adept at while with the Fellowship. He had been grateful that Aragorn had an uncanny ability to read the trees and listen to the rocks, almost as well as an Elf could. He guided them towards the sun, for it would take them straight across Aman. Slowly, the sand faded to a lush green grass kissed by the rain of the storm.

This particular field stretched far and wide to a stretch of tall trees. The grasses were tall and woven into the green were thousands of tiny white flowers that seemed to glitter in the morning sun, their petals dotted with dew that reflected the light.

_"If these lands are all so diverse and beautiful, I think we shall be very happy here, Adar."_

Thranduil nodded in agreement, all earlier panic and concern having fled in the wake of such beauty he laid eyes upon. 

" _I think we shall have a good life here, though it will take a little while to settle in_." He hoped Liliel didn't come looking for them, for once they met with Oropher there would be much drama about her presence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone still following this? lol


	17. 4-6 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written Jan 24 - 25.  
> Ai, how I love Oropher so! My RP partner also had a great adoration for him, and as such we'll see a lot of development for him later on.  
> *cries* MY SONNNNNN

It was not long before they crossed near lakes and fields, tall trees coming closer into view. A few elves were wandering about, and Thranduil recognised them as his own people. This was the Great Forest of Aman, filled with Sindar, Silvan, Nandor and just about every type of plant in existence. Tall pale trunks rose high into the sky with vines and branches forming sleek railings aside stairs leading up into the trees. Thranduil looked up and could plainly see they had entered a city, one as far from the simple life as things could possibly be. Flowers burst from hanging canopies and petals dusted the forest floor, along with leaves and grass as nothing was dead here - all in the Undying Lands lived forever. There was chatter amongst the elves who waved to Thranduil and Legolas, overjoyed to see their King and Prince return. These voices were familiar, as was their language. Thranduil smiled. He was home. 

The Great Forest reminded Legolas vaguely of Caras Galadhon, though the richness in color here, the winding of branches as railing, and the rich display of flora and fauna was so foreign and very much unique to Aman. The scent of the trees and flowers, the sounds of voices using a tongue that was native to him caused Legolas to relax. He closed his eyes and imagined their kingdom before Galadriel had burned it to the ground, and once he opened them he saw a place he could consider home. 

 

His eyes moved through the crowds of elves, and he, too, saw many he recognized. Servants, guards, many of their kin. They all bowed to them as they passed. Legolas briefly wondered of Galion's fate, knowing that there was no way that they could bereborn and that Galion, ever loyal to the House of Oropher, would not. Legolas could think of far more sins he had committed than Galion, who he viewed in a golden light.  _"Do you not see, Adar? They have nothing but love for you. There is nothing to fear here."_

 

One elf approached him, bowing his golden head and offering Legolas a large bouquet of flowers of reds and golds, and another moved to Thranduil's side and offered the King the same to welcome them both.  _"I think this is the closest to a homecoming we can hope to receive in this place."_ Legolas' gaze rose up the trees, and they seemed to reach towards the very sky.  _"That is what you want, is it not? A kingdom to rule?"_

" _Yes_." Thranduil smiled warmly, accepting the bouquet he was given and nodding in appreciation towards the elf by his side. " _This is perfect._ " He looked to the elves around them, seeing everyone from Mirkwood gazing as if their lord and saviour had come down from the heavens. Some folk threw multicoloured flower petals as they passed, and it was indeed a day of celebration for the leaders of the Sindar had returned, never abandoning their people. 

" _This is where we belong._ " his mind's connection was positive and vibrant, like a sleeping flower unfurled to reveal sparkling silver and shimmering streaks of gold. And he turned to Legolas, looking happier than he'd ever been. 

 

Before any settling in could be considered, there was someone both Thranduil and Legolas needed to contact. 

"May I ask as to the whereabouts of my father, Oropher?" Thranduil spoke to a few elves nearby, and was directed further into the forest where a still lake of turquoise reflected the sky amidst a clearing of trees. There stood a single figure, dark green robes spreading several meters around him upon the ground and embroidered with thousands of silver leaves. Thranduil caught sight of snow-white hair touching the floor, noted the bearing of which the figure stood and immediately recognised his father. 

 

"Adar.." he called, walking towards Oropher who slowly turned, the sharp angles of his face a stark contrast to the flowing smoothness of his clothing. He who had not seen his son nor wanted to stay awake for a day without him opened his eyes wide, a flood of feelings washing over his stiff expression. 

"Th-Thranduil!!" Oropher almost wept with joy, but his eternal mask of stoicism stayed strong. Thranduil automatically hid his emotions as he always had, though a beautiful smile bloomed across his face with a light golden glow to his skin. Happiness was a thing he found showing through without restraint, and instantly he pressed his face into Oropher's chest as both arms wrapped tightly around the ancient king. 

For once, Oropher the Silent could not remain stiff and quiet when he picked Thranduil up, causing his son to gasp in surprise. 

"I have missed you, my little spring flower." he whispered, hugging Thranduil with great strength and millennia of yearning flooding out of his body. Thranduil was immediately comforted by the familiar sensations rushing back - the tight, but cool embrace of his father always available whenever he needed it, being picked up and blanketed in dark robes with silvery patterns sparkling all over, and that low, gravelly voice like the churning of stone upon ocean waves, lifted by a powerful tide and rising above the sky. 

"I too." murmured Thranduil, who could not be bothered registering embarrassment at his father calling him by his old pet name. When he was set to his feet, Oropher then took notice of Legolas. He gestured with a hand for the Prince to come closer, offering him a long awaited hug. For there was nothing more Oropher loved in his life than his family, and both Thranduil and Legolas meant the world to him. 

Legolas watched his father now as he was adorned, and in those moments the King was the most beautiful creature he had ever had the pleasure of looking upon. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a warmth and bliss that radiated from his being now, and the Prince knew he could never ask his father to leave. It was the first time in all his years that he lay witness to the breathtaking beauty of Thranduil in pure happiness. It made his heart ache for him in the best possible way. Yes, this was his home, and if Legolas could see the King this happy until the end of his days, he was certain that he could not think of an elf who had sacrificed more, been torn to pieces time and time again, who deserved it more than Thranduil.

 

Oropher was still as magnificent and grand as the Prince had remembered several millennia ago before the King had passed. The way Thranduil was embraced so tightly caused Legolas, too, to feel the love and yearning that had been waiting to come crashing out and envelope Oropher's only son, his pride and joy. He stood back for the moment, taking in the sight that was so foreign yet so familiar. Yes, this was where Thranduil belonged, and it was very clear now. It was then that Legolas' thoughts drifted to Liliel and the resentment he felt towards her, for she could never love Thranduil as he so deserved. Oropher's love for his son was unconditional and had stretched the span of time. Liliel's had neverbeen there, and had been something the King had fashioned in his mind, perhaps as a protective shield, or perhaps because he had seen an inkling of something in her blue eyes and built upon that. 

 

When Thranduil was released, Oropher's eyes turned to Legolas and the Prince moved forward, head inclined out of respect. He knew Oropher loved him, but this was an elf so ancient and wise, that Legolas did not wish to forget his own place here. Up close, Oropher smelled of the woods and the lake, of the seas and of the wind. 

Oropher's arms were warm and strong around Legolas as he held him, feeling much like he had when Thranduil had returned from his life with the Noldor a changed and mature elf. It was like his little elfling had come back, even though the two before him had been through much and showed millennia of experience across their faces. 

 

"Gods, you've grown!" he exclaimed, placing his hands by Legolas's shoulders and inspecting him fondly "How long has it been, three and a half thousand years?" Oropher had seen Legolas last at the tender age of 400, not technically an elfling but considered by all elves as a child. He'd been slow to grow but now was tall and fair, with his mother's eyes and father's complexion. 

Thranduil nodded, eyes shining as he looked upon Legolas with pride. 

"I have looked after him as best I could." said he, and Oropher nodded in understanding. "His happiness is my happiness, and we both wish to live together as a family once more."

 

At this, Oropher's stoic face changed to something warm and pleasant with the light elven glow that came from such heartfelt emotion. 

 _'I always thought you'd choose your wife._ ' went unsaid between them, and Oropher straightened up to glance from Legolas to Thranduil. "You are both welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish. I have something of a palace up in the trees, hopefully that will suit  _his majesty_  Thranduil." He inclined his head towards Thranduil who chuckled quietly, nudging him from the side. 

"We will see, Adar. We will see."

The way Oropher held him reminded Legolas of how Thranduil had embraced him upon his safe return from the Fellowship, though lacking in the desperation and walled up fear he kept within himself for months. He smiled up at Oropher as he was inspected, though he truly wished for clothing that fit him slightly better. He was out of his element in these robes, much preferring something simple, a tunic and leggings that moved easily with his body and did not inhibit him in any way. "Aye, it has been many millennia, Daeradar..." Legolas said at length. "Unfortunately for my dear Adar here, I have grown in body but not in mind... I still have a taste for adventure and exploration that I am not sure he understands yet."

 

The Prince glanced at Thranduil briefly, smiling. "I have not made it easy for him, for as long as I have been able to walk and speak my own thoughts... and even then, far before that." Legolas thought it strange that Oropher made no verbal mention of Liliel's absence, though he preferred not to think on it now. Turning his eyes to Oropher, Legolas wondered how much he knew, about anything and everything that had happened in Middle Earth. Surely he did not keep himself in the dark about such things. Legolas' eyes traveled back to Thranduil, watching him carefully.

"We are grateful that you would allow us to stay with you... I amcertain Adar has missed the encompassing love of family..." Legolas had watched how Thranduil had mourned his father... how it had changed him. Even as a child, he had seen it. 

Thranduil beamed at the sound of family, remembering his younger days under Oropher's fierce protection and overflowing love. Those has been wonderful times where all cherished him and none thought to harm their little prince. Now it seemed life had come full circle, and Thranduil would be safe with Oropher once more. And he had Legolas, who could not die for any reason at all here in the lands of Aman! Life was perfect. Or so it seemed. 

 

"You both are going to love it here. It's just like the Greenwood, only with twice as many elves." Oropher gestured to the tree-lined path Thranduil and Legolas had taken to get to the lake, with all sorts of wood-elves flitting about the lush greenery. "Care to accompany me back home? I'm sure you have both been through much recently." He was quite perceptive but one did not need foresight to tell many feels had gone crazy in both Legolas and Thranduil as of late. Expressions were a thing he could read well on other people, seeing as he didn't have many of his own. 

 

Now, something about Oropher was a little less wise and timely as many might think. After his death at the dawn of the Third Age, he had spent a hundred years watching over Thranduil from the visions one could access in Aman of life in Middle-Earth. He had seen how terribly Thranduil had suffered, and felt enough of his own heartache to not want any of it at all. And so he slept in blissful silence for over three thousand years, ignoring the world and anything around him. He'd only just woken when the Valar informed him of his family being Reborn. Thranduil and Legolas were his only reasons to be awake, and to live. It overjoyed him to no extent that Liliel was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he felt life was as it should be. 

Legolas inclined his head, his gaze moving down the path, the lush greens of the forest, the trees that seemed as tall and old as the world itself. The trees were reflected off the still surface of the turquoise lake, and the Prince still gazed around in wonder. Aman was full of surprises, and of great beauty that he had never seen in Middle Earth, even during all his travels. A simple field that was vast and unadulterated, untainted in these lands, seemed more pure, untouchable, and lovely than the most beautiful and glorious spot in Middle Earth.

 

He followed Oropher's side, walking slowly alongside of him. " _I know you have been longing for a Kingdom, Adar... I believe this place is very fitting..."_  Legolas took Oropher's arm in his own as they walked, and many looked up, and it was quite a sight to see three glorious and regal elves all together, the House of Oropher in all of its magnificence. 

 

"I believe I should love a nice bath, Daeradar, and some more fitting clothes. Rebirth does not grant the splendor and garments a King deserves.." Legolas smirked and shot Thranduil a look.

"Ah, yes." Oropher took a glance to Legolas "I was wondering about your new fashion sense. Looks like the sort of clothes Thranduil would wear.." He then looked to Thranduil as if he knew what was going on, but said nothing further. Oropher did not normally speak this much, having always been the one to listen and let things happen around him. Only when the world needed guidance, then would he act. Thranduil meanwhile kept himself from blushing as he remembered what had happened to Legolas's leggings, finding it easier to keep a straight face in Oropher's presence.

 

They walked up a winding staircase of shapely beech, carved by magic with no tool marks at all on the smooth steps. Everything looked so natural here, it was the essence of all the wood-elves stood for. Higher and higher the stairs rose - typical of elven habitats they went far enough until they burst into a wide clearing of branches weaved in a circular wall around a wooden floor - the reception area of Oropher's home. From there, hallways wound throughout the treetops and further stairs lead to an upper level where one could take in the sun or night sky whilst in perfect, private comfort. Many rooms were built into the thick tree trunks, large enough to hold a party in and lit inside with enchanted amber illuminating the hollow space. Kitchens, bathrooms, discreet water piping and even servant quarters - it was literally a palace up in the trees. 

 

"Legolas, you may ask for anything you like from the servants here be it clothes, a warm bath or a cup of wine. You too, iôn. There's enough here to accommodate any of your needs." said Oropher, gesturing around as he spoke to Legolas and Thranduil. The Great Forest was the only place West of the mountains that elves kept servants, for there were two places that the system remained in place for the royal families of both Noldor and Sindar. Oropher had six of his own, seven with the latest arrival as of yesterday. He hoped they would serve his family well. 

"Adar and I certainly have different tastes in clothing..." Legolas murmured with a chuckle as they climbed the stairs. "It was not my first selection, for I favor a more simple way of dress..." He hid the own blush that threatened to creep up pale cheeks a the thought of the night before. In truth, every step up these stairs was complete agony and a brutal reminder of an all too heated evening the night before, though Legolas hid his discomfort well. The scent of tree and forest was comforting to Legolas, and the palace that was built within the trees was nearly as glorious as Mirkwood, but on a smaller scale.

 

He inclined his golden head gratefully towards Oropher at the offer. "I think I shall like all of those things. Thank you, Daeradar, for your kindness, on such short notice, and opening your home to us." Of course Legolas knew that Oropher would in a heartbeat, that he likely wished for nothing more than for his family to remain in peace with him for the end of their days. A servant nearby must have heard what Legolas wished for, and turned on his heel to swiftly retrieve it for him, drawing a bath and pouring a glass of wine. He came to Legolas with a fresh tunic of soft silk, of a deep silver, and dark leggings. 

Oropher looked upon Legolas with a fond gaze, glad he could help him settle in. He then turned to Thranduil, who had asked a servant to fetch him some clothes and prepare a room. 

"It's as if you never left..." mused Oropher as he ran his fingers through Thranduil's hair, much to the younger elf's delight. 

"More like you were only waiting for us to arrive." said Thranduil, noting the smooth efficiency of which everything took place. He already felt like he was home, the decor and scents familiar. 

 

"You are both free to explore wherever you'd like." Oropher stepped away with his hands folded behind his back. "I have a few things I must attend to, seeing as I only became conscious a day ago. Do excuse me." He flashed a very quick smile and disappeared, leaving Thranduil with many questions and a resolve to steal some of Oropher's time later on. Thranduil looked to Legolas, and observed the colour of his new robes in hand.  

"Finally you will look all proper and princely." he teased, sauntering over with a smirk " _No more swapping_   _clothes with me_."

As Oropher departed, Legolas' gazed moved over the main area, and the many rooms that were built off of the trees. It would not do to change here in the open so he shot a smirk at Thranduil and followed the servant who had come back to guide him to the baths. "Do I not always have a proper, princely air about myself?" He wondered how he looked now, in slightly oversized robes, like an elfling dressed in his father's garb, which was practically like he was. He had not taken the time to fuss with his hair, and he was certain that he had some sand in some rather unpleasant places for he did not bathe the night before. He glanced down at himself as he followed the servant. " _Fear not, I do not seek to arouse more suspicions. They weren't really my colors anyways."_

 

The baths were also woven into the trees, large enough for several, and similar to the hot springs in Mirkwood. A carafe of wine that Legolas had requested, along with a pile of soft towels, soaps, and sweet-smelling bath oils were at the edge of the steaming pools. Legolas was grateful for the steam, for he recalled that his body was not in the best condition for viewing and was more battered and bruised than he was used to. Thranduil was in far worse shape. Legolas thanked the elf, who smiled and departed swiftly. "It almost feels like Mirkwood..." He could smell himself now and winced. "Gods, you did not tell me I smelled like a dwarf that has been swimming in the sea."

Thranduil looked rather amused and turned up his nose as if he had only just noticed. 

"I do not like to insult you, iôn nín. But you do need a bath. Come, I shall join you. It's about time I got my hair in order." He seemed eager to disrobe and slip into the water - it was Thranduil's daily ritual after all to take a hot bath in the morning, leaving him perfectly clean for the entire day. Elves generally stayed clean for weeks after a bath, for they did not sweat nor shed skin naturally but Thranduil found hot baths the perfect way to start his day. He was rather obsessive about his appearance and how better to refine it than to observe himself nude on a daily basis, making alterations until he was satisfied? Currently he was concerned about his hair, which hadn't been combed in days. 

 

He undressed and left his clothes in a neat pile on the floor, knowing sooner or later a servant would arrive with suitable clothes he could wear after. Oropher had known some day his son would return, thus he kept silk robes and the like in storage for that time. His own clothes could fit nobody but himself, seeing as he was quite a muscular figure with broad shoulders and a powerful chest. 

Thranduil's slender form slipped into the water and he bared his neck to Legolas. 

"See this?" he said, a red mark remaining on his skin "How long do you think it will take to fade? The last thing we want is for my father to get suspicious..."

Legolas was finally becoming disturbed at his own lack of cleanliness and could only imagine how Thranduil felt, for he knew his father was quite fastidious when it came to personal grooming.  He snorted as he, too, disrobed and following slowly into the water, hissing slightly as it enveloped his sore muscles and began their healing magic almost immediately. "You would not have lasted for a moment with the Fellowship. Days, sometimes weeks between baths, Adar... and I bathed far more than those in my company. It was not often that we had a spare moment to enjoy the luxury of a relaxing lake or stream." 

 

He sighed, tilting his head back and sinking down into the water until he was submerged save for his head. He gazed at the angry red mark upon Thranduil's neck and smirked. "You said Daeradar would care not... but how am I supposed to know? Several days?" He bore his own to the King, an angry bruise on porcelain flesh. "Your robes are often crafted with high collars." He snorted. "I am certain you shall manage."

Thranduil rolled his eyes and leaned back with his head against the wooden floor, something possible as the bath was sunk deep beneath. He had a feeling Oropher wouldn't really care what happened between his two new housemates but there was the slightest notion that the ancient King just might feel a bit jealous. Thranduil knew his father had taken no lover in his life save for the year he spent with his wife, and after that there had been nothing remotely romantic in existence for him. How might he feel if he knew Thranduil and Legolas had a thing going? Perhaps it was best he didn't know. 

Thranduil ran his fingers along the inside of Legolas's thigh, massaging ever so slightly. 

"Are you still in pain?" he asked gently, " _Did I fuck you too hard?"_

Legolas sunk into the heated pool a little deeper before reaching for a vial of oil and pouring a little into his hands, running his fingers carefully through his hair and untangling some particularly nasty knots with a frown. His hair only came to the middle of his bath and had always worked on grooming his hair on his own, quite unlike the King.

 

Thranduil's fingers found the inside of his thighs and Legolas' jaw clenched slightly, blue eyes darkening just the smallest bit.  _"Every step causes me to ache. But no... no such thing."_ He smirked stubbornly, turning his back to Thranduil as he continued to work on his hair.  _"I do not regret a second of that night."_

Thranduil slid his hand from Legolas's thigh up towards himself, and started work at his own hair. 

 _"I do not regret it either. Your body can take far much more than I thought."_ As he combed his fingers through his hair, he only managed to get it lightly scented and very damp as it seemed to be tangled beyond saving. He sighed in a huff, knowing he would have to bother his father's servants to fix his hair for him. Oh well. He was sure they wouldn't mind. Back in Mirkwood, everyone in the palace practically fought for the job. He suspected however it was a combination of getting to see him naked and feel his hair. 

 

For a long time he relaxed, ignoring his hair for the moment and closing his eyes. Just being near Legolas was a pleasing pastime for him - Thranduil let himself smile and be completely calm. 

Legolas finished swiftly with his own hair, his fingers deft and skilled with knots, so used to getting them himself as he was far less careful with his golden mane. He turned to the King, smiling at the sight of his father as he relaxed. He moved towards him and stood at his side, reaching to touch the heavy silken locks and began to work at the knots from the bottom. He secretly loved that he did not need to request to touch the King's hair, or to fight with others over it. 

 

 _"I think I am capable of a lot more than you give me credit for, meleth nin. Ai... I do not understand how you can make such a horrid mess of this..."_ He chuckled softly as he worked. " _A relaxed King is a lovely sight. Shall I pour you a glass of wine and provide a massage, my liege?"_  He grinned.

"Yes please.." his inner voice murmured, pleased at what Legolas offered. He turned so his elbows rested on the floor and his back was turned to the Prince, long tangled locks able to be worked at. The bath was deep enough with a sloped bottom so that he could stand with Legolas behind him, and feeling his son draw closer he lazily swayed his hips beneath the water. His butt came into contact with the front of Legolas's body, smooth and warm.  
  
"Perhaps I should name you my professional hairdresser..." he thought, knowing how efficiently Legolas worked at untangling hair. And Thranduil's hair only ever tangled from the elements outside or stress - hopefully Legolas would not have too much trouble with it.

Even now, Thranduil was proving to be a tease, though Legolas had expected no less. It had been a long time since he had seen the King at this much ease. He reached beneath the water to grab and squeeze a firm buttock before smirking and wading past to pour a glass of wine. He took a sip before handing the glass to Thranduil. 

 

Legolas moved back behind him to continue with the heavy mass of silken locks, oiling his fingers as he carefully and swiftly continued to work through them. "Oh, you do not pay me enough for that, Adar... I do not think I could accept." He chuckled. "I do not think the title of Prince and Hairdresser to the King would work well together. Perhaps I shall consider doing this on the side, though... if your offers to me are ones I deem worthy."

 

It was a few minutes yet until Legolas had completely smoothed out a section of Thranduil's hair, careful not to twist or pull a single hair. 

Thranduil drank some of the wine and smiled, feeling both aroused and cared for with Legolas behind him. Knowing his hair was going to be looked after pleased him greatly, and this wine was a good strong vintage that gave him a light buzz.  
  
"You may ask to be rewarded.. for anything you wish." he murmured, "This is what I offer." Thranduil loved to spoil Legolas just as he loved to be spoilt himself, and for his son's services he figured the Prince could use a few special rewards now and then.

Legolas smirked behind the King and as one hand continued to undo knots the other swept beneath the water to cup the King's hips, running his thumb carefully over the light cuts and bruises from the night before. "Anything I wish?" He purred.

 

His fingertips moved to trace the crack between Thranduil's buttocks lightly, teasingly as his other hand continued its job. "What an honorable offer, and one I think you should have thought more careful upon before giving such a great array of choices for your son... who might abuse this little gift."

Thranduil moaned through pursed lips as he felt tingles of pain and pleasure shoot from Legolas's touch at his sensitive lower body.  
"Mmmngh..." he soon downed the rest of his wine, and closed his eyes. "You really are just like me... always taking more than what you're offered before you've even decided on it!"  
  
He saw no reason to hide his arousal, and arched his back a little to present his ass as a more appealing prize beneath the water. Soft and rounded, one could squeeze as much as they liked there and Thranduil would love it. Legolas could even stick his face in there; the King wouldn't mind at all.  
"I thought you preferred this careless Thranduil, the one who disregards appearances and consequence thus lives life to the fullest." Slowly he could feel his hair untangling, bit by bit from Legolas's skilled fingers and the scented oils. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was back in Mirkwood.

"Is that so bad?" Legolas chuckled. "You should be proud that I've taken after you in some regard." The Prince continued to tease between Thranduil's legs, smirking as the King arched his back and presented himself to his son. "And I do prefer this careless Thranduil. He reminds me of myself."

 

He pressed himself, half hard, against the back of the King's thigh, running his hands up the pale, smooth expanse of his back, dropping a light kiss on the base of his neck.

 

"You know what it is you do to me..." He smirked against his flesh before removing his fingers and taking a small step back, continuing to work on his hair again. "I shall take my prize at a time and place of my choosing, then. Whether you are prepared for it or not."

"Ah, shit.." he sighed, knowing this would have occurred some day. Legolas had always wanted to take him in public, or have it the other way around - the Prince had taken after his father in his exhibitionistic tendencies with perhaps a thing for domination and voyeurism too.  
  
Thranduil was just on the edge of his arousal, somewhere between letting Legolas calmly do his hair and begging him to shove a hand or two up his ass.  
"At least let me maintain my dignity, meleth nín." he murmured, shifting to pour himself another glass of wine. He felt he would need to be a little tipsy when the time came for Legolas to claim his prize - which was probably a piece of nice, sweet booty combined with just about any part of Thranduil's body that could be marked.

"What?" Legolas smirked as Thranduil cursed, reaching around his body to take his glass of wine, and taking a long, drawn-out sip. "Are you afraid of what I desire?" He continued to work until after a few minutes more, was through. Thranduil's hair was perfectly tangle-free, heavy and damp with water and oils.

 

"There." He smiled, admiring his own handiwork before moving to lean against the wall of the bath beside Thranduil, resting his head on the floor and gazing at him coyly. "I daresay I do a better job than all of your servants combined."

Thranduil ran a hand through his hair and was glad to find it was smooth and straight as it was meant to be. He barely noticed Legolas stealing a sip of wine from his glass until it was no longer at his fingertips, and breathed out slowly with his eyes closed. When he opened them he saw Legolas gazing at him, looking quite pleased with himself.  
  
"Mm... you do quite a good job at this." he said as his whole body slid closer to Legolas, until they were so close just a shift would press their combined arousal into one. "Will you always have the time to look after your Adar's hair?" Thranduil doubted Legolas had the patience to both wash and brush about four feet of silvery blonde hair over the course of several hours daily - some things he believed really were best left to the servants. For all Thranduil knew, seeing him naked and touching his hair was probably the highlight of their day.

"Oh Valar, no..." Legolas murmured with a laugh. Thranduil slid closer to him in the water, and he could feel the heat of the other's body, hotter than the water around them. It would take just a small closing of space for them to be pressed together. "I would likely hang myself with it if I had to deal with it daily."

He took Thranduil's hand in his own, guiding the King's fingers over his own golden locks. "You know, you could just stop caring if it gets tangled or not. Do you realize just how much time would be saved each day if you stopped fussing over your appearance?" Legolas grinned. "You know you are always lovely in my eyes, even if you look as rough and unkempt as a Human."

"Now I would rather face death than live a day without being presented in my full magnificence and splendour." said Thranduil, a fond smile curving his lips at the feel of his son's hair beneath his hand. "We elves are graceful, beautiful creatures. Rough and unkempt describe all others but us."  
  
He leaned closer just a little and pressed his lips to Legolas's neck, whispering into his ear "All the same I will still love you no matter how you look." And for someone as obsessed with perfect beauty as Thranduil, such a thing was a serious confession indeed.

A dark blush crossed Legolas' pale cheeks at that admission, and the Prince knew that Thranduil would never give a compliment like that lightly. He was a naturally wild and messy elfling, probably covered in mud far more often than he was clean or in dry clothes. While Legolas enjoyed the comfort of a bath and cleanliness, he never minded a rugged sort of dirty, messed, or state of unkempt disarray. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of Thranduil's soft lips upon his neck and Legolas' hands moved to cup his father's jaw, running his thumbs along it lightly.

"You only say these things because you must... You are my father. You are required to have an unconditional love and tolerance of your child."

"I say and do nothing because I must, iôn." Thranduil began to suck slowly and lovingly at the softest part of Legolas's neck, his hand moving to stroke along the tip of a pointed ear. "I do what I wish... and your carefree Thranduil is telling you... nothing of your appearance could ever lessen my complete and utter adoration." His voice was little more than a throaty hum now, and Thranduil occupied his lips with kisses all the way down Legolas's neck. 

His body rubbed against Legolas so lightly it was barely there, the softness of his skin giving a cushioned feel as he pressed a little harder. Oh, how he wanted to be close. So close he could absorb his son. Thranduil's hard length touched close to Legolas's, and it was then that he made a tiny thrust motion with his hips. 

A soft gasp escape Legolas' lips as Thranduil's lips and hands found his neck and ear, two of his more sensitive spots and began to tease him almost mercilessly. Slowly and gently, but knowing full well what was being done, and that Legolas could react so easily to his father's touches. His head fell to the side, allowing Thranduil better access as his hands moved to the King's hips, shuddering slightly in the water as he felt their arousals touch. He recalled, vaguely, when he had returned to the Fellowship and they had bathed together, though it was in relative secrecy, soft sounds, and blanket of steam that prevented their little secret from being revealed to their guards. Now that they were here, they were alone, and did not have to hide from anyone.

"Still..." He murmured, his breath quickening slightly. "You flatter me and it warms my heart to know that no matter what, you shall always love me. Unconditionally."

Thranduil responded with a quiet "Mmm.." as he began to nibble gently at Legolas's skin, feeling grounded by those hands on his hips. Many times when he was intimate with his son, he felt as if he could float away into nothingness. Now he was so relaxed and pleasantly aroused that he could think of nothing more perfect than this. 

Their privacy together was a surety now that they lived with Oropher, one whose servants came when called and were nowhere to be seen otherwise. During that week, Legolas and Thranduil would have many opportunities to sneak little touches past each other and couple in secret late at night. Nobody said anything against them, and one could believe that nobody knew. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nb: since Thranduil's name means "vigorous spring", Oropher nicknamed him his little flower because Thrandy had always been brightest and full of energy in the spring, much more than other elves. It was a bit embarrassing when Thranduil grew older and was called by this name upon returning from patrol with his guards, or reporting important matters when his father didn't care to listen - but not once did Oropher relent with his affectionate nicknaming. Thranduil was reminded every time he heard those words, that he was a precious and beautiful thing who was deeply loved. His halls rang hollow without them, after his father's death.


	18. 4-7 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written Jan 25 - 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Thranduil, Oropher, some guards  
> Partner: Legolas, Liliel, some other npcs

While Legolas and Thranduil lived in peace and safety for the span of a week, Liliel had woken the morning her son and husband departed with a hastily scrolled note left on her table. Legolas had apologized for leaving. It was brief and impressionable and she hated to believe that that was her son, the child she bore and raised, protected with her own life. He hadn't even said goodbye. He was taken from her too soon, and so it had come to pass once again. The flowers in her home withered and died, sensing Liliel's sadness and anger, and she had spoken to everyone she knew asking of her son and her husband's whereabouts. For several days she had searched, and finally, an elf further from the shore said he had seen two male Sindar moving in the direction of the Great Forest, of King Oropher. 

Thranduil had said he would be going there, and he suspected Legolas had followed suit, and possibly the lover that Thranduil had alluded to the night before he had disappeared, that caused him to feel nothing but resentment for his wife. All she wanted was Legolas back, to know he was safe. To get a final answer from her husband, for he had left without any real sense of closure and for that, she found that she resented him, too.

She traveled for hours, asking of Oropher's whereabouts when she reached the forest, and was directed to a great tree with a winding staircase that went up to the sky. The Sindar and Silvan watched Liliel as she glided up the stairs, holding the hem of her long white gown, golden head bowed. She was angry, frantic, and very much on a mission. When she reached the top she was stopped by two guards who would not let her pass. "Where is Thranduil?" She growled. "Where is my husband? I only wish to speak to him?" She knew Oropher did not care for her, but these matters did not concern him. 

The guards exchanged glances, wondering if Liliel would try to force her way past them. They wore simple Silvan leather armour and if she had a weapon, they just might be screwed. For these elves did not wish to hurt her, nor let her pass. Oropher would likely decapitate them if they so much as let in someone he didn't wish to see. 

 

"I am sorry, my Lady." said one of them, stepping in tandem with the other to bar the entrance with their bodies "You shall not pass. We have been instructed to keep you from bothering the King."

 Thranduil had told the guards to not let Liliel in, for he did not wish to deal with her just yet. Maybe in a century when he could further delude himself that she loved him - then he would speak to his Queen. For now he was lounging on a sofa with Legolas in his arms, comfortable and warm with a few glasses of wine in him and a lazy smile on his face. However, wood did not block sound so easily as stone and Thranduil's sharp hearing picked up an aggravated voice. He opened his eyes wide and looked at the wall, as if he had X-Ray vision and could see through it. His arms naturally closed around Legolas just a little tighter, protectively with a hint of fear. 

Liliel had no weapon, other than her words which were nearly as sharp as a blade when she was angry. And she was furious and frustrated beyond belief. She tried to push past the guards again, sighing angrily, pounding her fist against the armor of the one on her right. "He said this? Thranduil!" She yelled, her voice echoing through the halls. "I know you are there. Are you so fearful of your own wife that you will not face her?" Liliel lowered her voice and growled at the guards. "If you will not alert Thranduil of my presence then where is Oropher? I require to speak to one of them. I am Thranduil's  _queen_. I have every right to this palace that he has!"

 

Legolas heard Liliel's voice ring through the hollowed rooms within the trees and felt Thranduil's fear, his own eyes widening as he went on high alert. He looked up at his father, reaching to touch his cheek. " _She shall stay out there all day if you do not see her. What do you intend to do, meleth nin?"_

"I might as well speak to her... if my father gets there first she will probably end up in pieces." Thranduil spoke lowly and with truth, for he still remembered Oropher muttering death threats to Liliel many millennia ago. They didn't title him "The Cruel" for nothing. 

"Legolas, I want you to stay here. I shall deal with her and hopefully all will be right in a few moments." said the King to his son, softly kissing Legolas's hand before slipping out from his position on the sofa. 

 

The guard who was having his chest beaten at by Liliel sighed heavily. 

"If you think you are entitled to Oropher's palace you are severely mistaken." he said coldly, having no fondness for this elleth who despite her lovely appearance had a fierce strength to both voice and fist.  The other guard nodded and was about to move Liliel away when the doors behind them opened, Thranduil appearing with a placid face and shimmering silver robes just as he always did. 

 

"I was wondering when you would come to visit." he smiled, gently pushing one guard aside so he could step closer to Liliel and look down his nose at her "Do you need anything, meleth nín?" His voice dripped with false sincerity as he had every single emotional wall built up so high it would be nigh on impossible to get a word of truth from him. He did this to protect himself for he was still very vulnerable - only through his dependence on Legolas had he been able to survive thus far. 

Legolas frowned as Thranduil pressed a light kiss to his fingers and left the sofa. He wanted desperately to follow, so that this might end. He did not know the true reasons why Liliel was here, but he knew of the King's fragility. He sat waiting, with bated breath, and it took all of his resolve to not disobey his father.

 

Liliel's eyes narrowed as Thranduil appeared before her, dressed in robes of shimmering silver splendor. He carried all of the regality of the King he once was and apparently was once again. He looked down his nose at her, and Liliel bristled, pushing past that same guard so that she was close to him. Her blue eyes were aflame and her face dark. "Do not  _patronize me_ , Thranduil Oropherion." She pressed a finger to his chest, poking him none too gently. "Where is Legolas? Where is my Prince?" Her eyes drifted over the grand main room built into the tree, lit with amber. "And where is your  _lover_? Do you dwell with them here in the safety of your father's arms?"

"Legolas is safe. My lover does not exist as you might think. And my father was right in what he said about you." Thranduil dropped all facade of niceties and gripped Liliel's wrist with icy fingers, pushing her hand from its accusing poke to his chest. "You are far too persistent for your position, Liliel." he spoke coldly as if the fell winter of the Third Age had frosted over his lips and brought death with every word. "I am not obligated to respond to your questions, yet I do. I wonder why." 

 

He folded his arms across his chest and glanced to the guards beside him, one who had been pushed around a lot and the other who was looking increasingly worried. If Oropher found out anyone had been disturbing his family's peace, there would be hell to pay. And mentioning secret lovers? Oh, that would not end well. The last thing Thranduil wanted were rumours spreading around. 

Thranduil's hands were of ice as he roughly shoved her hands out of the way, and Liliel bristled at her husband. She did not fear Oropher's wrath, believing that she did, in fact, have a place here to question him, for they had left so much unsaid when he had left. She cared not for the increasingly palpable discomfort in Oropher's guards at her side, for her full attention was diverted to the elf standing before her.

"And I have every right to be, Thranduil... You left me with absolutely nothing. Like a coward.  You could not handle the truth about what is between us so you ran. You ran and you took Legolas from me." Her face turned colder still as she gaze upon the King with unmasked disdain, perhaps a bit of hatred. "Why do you dare keep him to yourself? He is  _our_  son."

If there was one thing Thranduil hated it was being called a coward, especially in front of others. Briefly he wondered why. Legolas, Elrond and now Liliel had accused him of such. He himself had thought it true on occasion, but never had it hurt this much. Usually he would drink until he forgot what he ran from, and the next day he would barely remember a thing. 

"I am  _not_  a coward!" he snarled, head dipping lower so the appearance of his face had more effect. "I left because of how you treated me, and in the morning Legolas decided to follow. How thick do you have to be to realise I had no hand in persuading him to join me?!" His voice was harsh and vision seeing red, spokes of anger colouring his dark blue eyes. Of course he lied, about Legolas and their plans and all the reasons in the world. She did not need to know.  And Thranduil  _did_  consider himself the master of deceptions...

He chose not to mention what was between them for now.

Liliel stood firm and tall even as Thranduil's eyes flashed with anger. She did not fear his wrath for she had never been at the receiving end of it. Her own eyes were dark with a fury of her own, swirling and raging like the winds of a storm within her. "You led our son to his  _death_ , Thranduil... when I am certain he did not wish for it. Yes, it brought him back to me, but then you poisoned his mind so he does not even think of me as his mother anymore."

She bristled, claws extending. When Liliel was angry, and it was not often the case, it was a terrifying thing to see one so pure, so delicate, turn into a winter blizzard within moments. "If I had lived and you took my place I would have ensured Legolas had a better life... that he would still be roaming the world as his heart longs to. But you were selfish and you stole him from me."

"How  **DARE**  you?!" Thranduil shouted, using what little control he had left to stop himself from shoving Liliel out of the tree. "I did not steal him from you! YOU FUCKING  _DIED_!!" His hands gestured wildly as was common with the expressive Sindar, seeing that he needed to get his energy out somehow. 

 

"You know nothing of his life! He is perfectly fine with the way things are! It is your presence that complicates things!" The past week had been absolutely heavenly, evidence in Thranduil's mind that Legolas and Oropher were all he needed. "What will it take for me to talk sense into your mind!" He barely restrained himself from adding "Then again, I cannot talk sense into something that doesn't exist." He did not wish to insult her (such a thing was unbecoming of their relationship and position) but very very quickly he was losing his temper. 

 

Looking at the two elves, one Sinda and one Nandor... it could almost be said that they were related. Not for looks but attitude - both stubborn and with fearsome anger, neither would back down for anything at all. They did not fight often when they had been alive in the Second Age, but the drama their subjects craved was now being played out high up in the trees. Many watched, some whispered, all were intrigued as to the end result. Most rooted for Thranduil however, being completely loyal to the House of Oropher and disliking Liliel for disturbing the peace. 

Thranduil's voice echoed through the halls, but when Liliel's raised to meet his, it shook the very trees. Stepping as close into the King's personal space as she could, she jabbed her finger once again into his chest, gesticulating, emphasizing her point. "My presence that complicates things?" Her eyes were wild. "You are  _mad_  Thranduil, and all of the madness you have surrounded yourself with, your delusions, has not made anything any better."

She ignored his question blatantly, though it was clear she had heard it. She was not certain what she sought from this interaction, and came here with the intention of releasing millennia of pent up anger and aggression. At the time, she had not truly wished for a son. Or a child at all. But it was expected of them so that Thranduil would have an heir to the throne, and as his wife it was Liliel's duty to provide it. She was resentful during her pregnancy, not openly of course, but upon seeing Legolas' face for the first time, feeling his tiny fingers clench around her own, she was in love.

" _You_  should have died, Thranduil... not me. Things should have been different and you do not know how many times I prayed for them to be when I came here." She was practically shaking now, her eyes fiery, glassy, with tears of anger that would not spill.

"I am already dead." he snarled, an ache building within him as his heart absorbed just how much Liliel hated him. She had mentioned delusions, and he knew them to exist. His walls had been broken down so much in the past few weeks, he'd not had the time to build them up again. Hadn't had people to stoke his ego into a powerful flame, to lay down undying worship and praises before him. The things he was used to, the things that made him feel strong... So superficial he felt now, it was like nothing was real. And Legolas, sweet and seductive Legolas. Thranduil's own dependence on the Prince sickened him inside. There was an inkling of truth to what Liliel had said, and it was that Thranduil had taken Legolas's innocence and stolen his heart. In return, an Elvenking was formed who could not live without absolute control and security over his son. 

 

"We are both dead, and you are only making things worse for all of us." said Thranduil, finding it more difficult to breathe with every passing second. Oh, he did not want to hyperventilate and shriek, even if it was his number one go-to avenue for expression. His eyebrows felt like they were going to fall off, and take pieces of his face with it. Already he was barely seeing Liliel before him, her exact expression obscured by a blurred darkness. He was letting himself slip, in the worst way currently possible. 

 

"Leave now, and never come back. If you linger any longer my father shall have your head for treason, seeing as you want me dead."

Liliel could hardly believe her ears. Thranduil dared to threaten her, to tell her to leave. This place would have been her home as much as Thranduil's had Oropher taken to her better. But it was clear that she did not belong to this family, and truly never had. "I am only making it as bad as you deserve..." She practically spat, taking a step forward towards him. "You threaten me with your father's blade and you hide behind him when things go poorly like you always did." She shook her head, disgusted. "If you want my head then I suggest  _you_  take it, for I do not plan on leaving here anytime soon."

She shot a look that could kill at the guards that were now behind her, daring them to try and restrain her. She would not stand for it. "Whether or not you wish it I am still your wife. I am still  _Queen."_

Thranduil inwardly cringed at being told he hid behind his father. It was more like Oropher wanted to protect him, and Thranduil let it be so. Oropher had tried to dissuade him from marrying Liliel - likely he would appear in moments and say " _I told you so_."

Thranduil shook his head. 

"I do not wish to kill you. Legolas would not forgive me, and neither would the Valar." He was already on thin ice regarding his existence in Aman and relationship with Legolas; the last thing he needed was to slay his wife. Elven relationships never went this bad. What was he supposed to do now?

 

" _Legolas, are you there?_ " he called out within his mind " _Your mother is going to murder me... what should I do?_ " Thranduil turned away from Liliel, not appreciating her closeness at this point - not at all. The guards didn't dare speak or even move, and Thranduil was tempted to ask them to restrain her by force. But there were no dungeons in these lands, nor places or folk that could convince Liliel to stay away from her husband and son. He leaned on the railing nearby and stared intently at a few leaves, waiting for a thought of sense to come. He felt like he was losing his mind. 

Legolas had heard every word and dressed, following the voices. He couldn't stand this a moment longer, unable to comprehend where Liliel's anger came from, unable to forgive the savage words she had spoken. All had been blissful, perfect, and peaceful in these last few days alone in this small place they called their Kingdom. Liliel's appearance was, to be blunt, disturbing. " _I am coming, Adar..."_

 

He moved down the stairs as swiftly as his feet were going to carry him and paused at the sight of Liliel, beautiful and furious, who was stalking towards Thranduil. She had no weapon in hand but it appeared as though her mouth had been spouting daggers, anything that could cut through what remained of the Elvenking's defenses and drive him mad.

 

"Mother..." Legolas said cooly, drawing her attention away from the King. Some of the anger faded from Liliel's eyes and she moved towards him. 

 

"Legolas... I..." She shook her head, for she had no words. Her anger with the King was not forgotten.

 

" _Run. I shall deal with this. Leave this place. When I have calmed her I shall call upon you again."_

 

Thranduil saw his chance to escape and took it, vaulting over the railing as if he'd been given the strongest draught of "essence of nope." His natural grace let him flip and leap with great endurance until he reached the ground, running from a forward roll into the distance. Elves watched him, and the trees shivered as if they knew a storm had just begun. Thranduil ran, through the great forest and towards the gap in the Pelori Mountains. Past the city of the Noldor and all civilisation was where he was headed - for he'd learnt Aman's layout in the week he had been able to relax and thus needed no map to know he was fleeing far East. Just following the sun, he ran and ran. No thought was in his mind as he cut his connection with Legolas, wincing at the pain and allowing the wind to streak his tears away. 

 

~

 

The guards were now on high alert as Legolas was left nearly alone with Liliel - they were ready to defend him should anything go wrong. In all seriousness though, they were practically terrified of Liliel. She had made their King flee for his life, seemingly. They realised she was a force to be reckoned with. 

  
Legolas watched as Thranduil vaulted, the guards' attention following suit, as their King bolted from this place. Liliel's eyes had been upon her son and thus, distracted and unable to react, to grab at him before he could reach the ground. Or, worse yet, to dive off after him and start something incredibly ugly that would end well for no one. His eyes were like ice, more like Thranduil's than Liliel's, who he had always taken after in appearance, as he gazed upon the former Queen of Mirkwood. She reached to touch him and he recoiled, his voice a hiss.

 

"You will leave  _now_... I will never forgive you for what you have said to him. For what you have  _done_  to him. There is no love in you..."

 

Liliel looked horrified at these words, speechless, and Legolas almost seemed as though he was possessed by another even though, when she looked upon him, she knew it was him, and that she had done wrong. It was unforgivable. It all was. "Legolas, please..."

 

Legolas raised his chin, his eyes snapping to his guards. "Remove her from my..." He nearly fell upon his knees at the sudden and sharp pain in his head, his body breaking out into a cold sweat at the feeling. Legolas clumsily felt for Thranduil in his mind, reaching for him, searching, but unable to feel him. He shook slightly, and his eyes filled with fear. Thranduil had run, severed their connection. There would be no way to reach for him now, to ensure his safety, to protect him as the King had protected him for all of his years.

Liliel shrieked and reached for Legolas as he crumpled to his knees, holding his head, blue eyes dark and glassy. "He's gone..." Came out as a cold whisper.

"What sorcery is this...?" murmured one of the guards, watching Liliel crouch over Legolas. "Get away from him!" 

The other guard ran to find Oropher, thoroughly convinced that Liliel was working some telepathic dark magic on her son. Shit was hitting the fan, even if said fan hadn't been invented yet. 

Legolas shied away as Liliel's reached to touch him, fear and confusion in her eyes. Her anger had faded for now, and she knew Thranduil had run. But she couldn't for the life of her, understand why her son shook and groaned, or place the pain written over his fair features.

 

Panic was setting in fast, and Legolas could feel his heart quicken. His muscles felt the urge to run, to go after the King, but he could not, for it felt like pieces of him were missing. 

 

Liliel touched Legolas' face with a hand, his flesh was hot to the touch. It was so hot that she had to withdraw her fingers quickly for she feared they would burn. "Who is gone, Legolas?"

 

His mother's voice felt like nails on a chalkboard and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm the throbbing of his head, and of his heart. "Adar..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue sonic music* GOTTA GO FAST!!!!


	19. 4-8 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written Jan 27 - 31.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, irrelevant to this chapter but if you want to know how old everyone is, go here http://s28.postimg.org/7ecg8bxrh/Untitled.png we have a document detailing every bit of logic and reason in the RP, but it's got so much OOC kekkery that I just will post snippets now and then. Comment if you want to see the doc, though. It's got reference images and paragraphs of history LOL

Thranduil did not stop running until he felt his stamina begin to wear out. He was not as young as most elves who fled from home, thus could not run indefinitely like Legolas probably could. In about half an hour he had run free of the Great Forest and found a great stretch of grass with no flowers or other plants at all. He could not stop to rest here, and cursed himself for being so out of shape. He could bet his pretty little ears that it was those honey pastries he'd been eating for the past few centuries that made him unable to sprint for longer than thirty minutes. Though he was slender and lightly curved, his legs did need a bit more training for this sort of thing. Too long had he gotten used to lounging on his throne or a chaise with servants handing him anything he needed from knowledge to wine. 

Thranduil had a fierce, throbbing headache that threatened to send him to the ground in moments if he did not rest. Reluctantly he let himself double over, gasping for breath. 

This was not how things were meant to be. 

Time passed, and the hour was noon by the time the Elvenking passed through the gap in the mountains. Beyond were patches of woodland and places untouched by elves since the beginning of time. Until now. 

 

~

 

Thranduil spent long hours wandering, feeling desolate and alone. Had he gone back he could have sought his father's company, for Oropher was certainly used to holding his son as he cried about whatever had upset him in the past. But there was a feeling at the back of Thranduil's mind - something he'd never felt before - that if he went to Oropher seeking comfort he would be told to toughen up and act his age. Of course, the ancient King would never do such a thing and gladly welcome his son into his arms for as long as Thranduil needed. Even more so, since this was about Liliel. 

 

Thranduil had been doubting many things lately. 

 

He walked, through tall trees thin enough to filter sunlight between them, bathing the forest before Thranduil in a soft golden glow. It was midday, and the weather was pleasant enough as it always was here in the Blessed Realm. 

 

Thranduil thought about Legolas. What was he now - his son, his lover, his friend, his confidant, his  _toy_..? So many roles Legolas wished to fulfil, many which should have been taken by individuals. He could not complain about his son's neverending affection, for without Legolas Thranduil felt he would die. Ah, that was it. Thranduil was becoming dependent on him. The trees faded to light green grass, and Thranduil mindlessly walked ahead. He had always thought himself independent, strong-willed,  _powerful_. Legolas had such a grip on the King that Thranduil found his life becoming a constant spiral of seduction and games, desire and secrecy. When had the last time been when he'd sat alone and gazed at the stars, glass of wine in hand and flowers curling about his hair? When had he walked calmly in the forest without fear for his son trailing behind, when had he connected deeply to Mirkwood and felt his essence whole again?

He could remember, but it hurt to think how long ago.  And Mirkwood was gone. 

 

Now though, he was alone without a single soul in Aman knowing where he was. Some of the Valar in control of the sky and land could probably pinpoint his location if need be, but he could not feel any eyes upon his being at this time. Thranduil normally adored attention, but without it now he felt just fine. Yes, this was okay. He could have some time to himself. He was, after all, the most important person in his life. Legolas came close, along with Oropher. But there was truly no-one more Thranduil prized than himself. Vain and selfish as he was, it was how he'd grown to think. He could not think of Liliel now, not anymore. The hurt threatened to overtake him. 

 

The grass beneath his feet had become grey, a strange colour for something here in these lands of eternal life and joy. Thranduil's eyes matched the colour of the faded blades, waving listlessly in the chill, dry wind. He squinted ahead, and came to a stop before a rather odd looking line. The grey grass cut to a long, black type almost immediately and as Thranduil's eyes followed the line turned out to be part of a large, dark circle. Thrice as wide as the gates of his realm were tall, it was quite an unnatural looking sight of great size. Thranduil walked to what he assumed was the center of the circle, seeing the ground change to a soft creamy white sand colour with more thick black grass. 

" _What is this...?"_  he thought, bending to run his hand through the grass. He could feel heat rising from the ground and quickly withdrew his hand, afraid as if lava would jump out at him. How strange this was! Warm ground almost soft to the touch, and thick blades of individually planted grass with a somewhat oily texture. This grass he could not speak to, nor couldhe sense its natural presence. Rather, there was a... dark sense of foreboding that filled Thranduil's heart, as if he were venturing beyond the mountains of Mirkwood and into Dol Guldûr. He did not like this feeling one bit!

 

With both hands he reached to tug at a blade of grass, finding it to be rather strong and resistant. The harder he pulled, the more he became aware of a low rumbling from beneath the ground. Thranduil released the blade of grass just as the ground began to shake, and suddenly the wind was above him, pressing down with great force! Thranduil shrieked with fright as he was skyrocketed into the air, the ground rising up, up until the air became chill and a strong breeze blew from beside him. After a time all was still, and Thranduil crawled to the edge of the grass-circle. The blades had grown longer, and the rest of the ground was so far away, he could see the forest he'd previously walked in just as a tiny cluster in the distance! But then he caught sight of a great shadow, one so dark it seemed to block out the sun. It was human in shape, and unbelievably menacing. 

It was  _Melkor_. 

 

Darkness; darkness, cold and chill. Silence. It was just as he wished it to be. Melkor had floated in the Void for countless millennia, bound and suspended as punishment for the crimes he had committed against countless souls. His Iron Crown had been torn from his head, melted, beaten, and reforged as a collar about his neck. All limbs had been bound, and he had been attached to a thick chain of black steel, Angainor constructed by the Maiar to ensure he would never be released again. His kin were foolish and close-minded, for there would be a time for him to rise again, for the World's Final Judgment, and it was nearly here.

Middle Earth had fallen to ruin, and the influx of souls that had been cast into the void, the pain, destruction, and lives lost had fed him like mother's milk and made him strong. He could feel his power return to him slowly, and broke the chains that bonded him to the contained darkness. Melkor had gone into hiding then, as he once had, only he did not intend to be found again. None had set foot in this part of Aman... ever... for the cold and the dark would scare a lesser Elf off. He had been waiting for the second coming, for the Battle to end all Battles, and as he felt a tug on the dark blades of grass that grew from above, he knew he was being summoned. But who dared disturb the darkest and most foul of all of the Ainur, of all the creatures in this world and the next? It had been long since he had seen another, and longer still since he had touched the flesh of another being. He had lived in solitude for all of this time and was naturally curious.

He had been regaining his strength slowly, so the raising of the platform into the air on which his intruder stood took little effort. Where he had lifted him was high into the air, high above the clouds in the sky where the wind did not reach, but where there was a cold chill where one's breath could condense as if it were the heart of winter here. Dark clouds appear before the sun, in the Elf's field of vision, and Melkor took the form of something relatable to this one, not wishing to scare his new toy off so quickly. He took an Elven form, though he was far taller than any elf. His face was as pale as death, his hair as dark as the night, and bound down his back, nearly reaching the floor. His features were fair, fairer than any in all of Arda, and bound to his neck was his iron crown fashioned as a collar, for he could not remove it, despite the fact that he could break his chain. Upon his brow was a new crown that he had fashioned, horrifying and dark, thin and tall spikes of iron and steel that were sharp to the touch. His eyes were the color of blood and were tinged with an evil flame that had been reignited upon escape from the Void. His body was clothed with robes of the night, long and silken, upon his waist Angainor tied as a belt, his prize. Strange and ironic, eery and frightening. 

He stepped from the dark to reveal himself to the creature who had awoken him, for he had felt the suffering and sadness in that touch, and within him Melkor sensed a malleable heart, for the most tender of souls, the most broken, were always the easiest to manipulate and corrupt. It was how Sauron had been. It had been too easy.

He moved slowly towards the silver-haired elf, whose form he consumed in shadow as he towered over him. His gaze commanded eyes to look upon him, his voice something to be fearful of as it shook the very ground which Thranduil lay upon. " _Rise_ , little one... Rise and tell me who you are, and why you have sought me out."

 

"Haven't I risen enough..?" Thranduil muttered, thinking for a second that he had stood on the head of a particularly angry Vala and was going to be thrown into the Void. The darkness immediately clenched his heart and he felt it so strongly it almost made him sick. Memories of Mordor and its evil, looming shadows scattered across his vision yet the figure before him was not Sauron. Slowly he looked up into eyes filled with the blood of the innocent, how red and burning they were. Hellfire blazed in Melkor's gaze and it shook Thranduil to his core. He remembered this guy. Tales of Morgoth the First Dark Lord had been told to him in his early days, and inwardly Thranduil knew he was screwed. Answering Melkor seemed the best option at this moment and Thranduil introduced himself as "Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Silvan and Lord of the Sindar." 

He then thought for a moment, and stood to be a little taller than he was lying down. Pushing the grass back and forth with the tip of his boot, he met Melkor's eyes. "I have not sought you out. I did not know you were even alive until now. May I be released from wherever this place is? I'd much like to continue on my journey." his voice was quiet but not submissive - Thranduil spoke from weariness and a shaky conscience than any legitimate fear. If Melkor chose to end his life, Thranduil knew he would be reborn. The pain of death was like a pinprick compared to what he felt now. 

Melkor had no intention to kill this one, for it would be too easy. He knew how this place worked, and death was such a casual thing now, for those who died here would only be reborn, again and again, so long as this place existed. He smiled, the way his lips curled was both magnificent and fearful. His took a step forward, and then another, until he was close enough for Thranduil to feel the cold air radiate off his pale flesh. "A King? But a King no longer, I presume? Your world burned... Even ones in the Void could sense the falling of the earth."

He moved then, circling the King slowly, slightly impressed that this one did not cower in fear before him as so many had. Perhaps it was the form he took, intimidating, but not as terrible as his true embodiment. Thranduil asked to be released and Melkor just smiled, ignoring the question, for he had many of his own. He ran his eyes down the tall, fair form of the Elf, and he carried about him a regal splendor that he had not seen before, even in the Eldar. Self-assured, confident... but broken, even though he hid it well now.

"I have question,  _Thranduil_   _Oropherion, King of the Silvan and Lord of the Sindar and First of his Name..."_ Melkor's words dripped with fire. Where does your journey end? Tell me what it is you seek? Perhaps I can help you find it." 

"I seek to be King over my people once more... and any who will follow." he murmured, holding Melkor's fiery gaze as best he could. Such power he could sense from this being - it was intoxicating, terrible and arousing all at once. He held more interest than hatred for the Dark Lord, one who had marred the beautiful surface of Arda and brought evil things into the world. But Thranduil knew he had to be careful, for the figure before him was as deadly and beautiful as an elf yet cunning and greedy like a dragon. Melkor would take all he wanted at any cost, Thranduil knowing his history well. 

 

He directed his thoughts away from the burning of Mirkwood and focussed on Melkor's appearance. His flesh looked like ice had chilled the blood in his veins, greyish white with an ethereal darkness outlining the form. Strands of hair looked like curling black tendrils, sentient and able to strangle an entire army with its impressive length. An angular face, strong jaw and good eyebrow game. Melkor was  _hot_ , undeniably so. Thranduil stared. 

Before he was thrown into the Void Melkor had been well aware of the effect he'd had on weaker creatures, Elves included, and even some of the Valar. He could be seductive beyond measure, able to Shapeshift into anyone's greatest fantasy if it would manipulate the other to bend to his will so that hecould get what he wanted. He learned quickly that none were created with a mind of their own; a mind free of corruption. It just took a little more  _coaxing_  to open the doors of the cage at times, and Melkor could be terribly persuasive. He saw that Thranduil stared and he just smirked down at him, pausing, mid-step before him and turning to face him in full. 

He reached out, and the wrist that peered from heavy dark robes that seemed to be created of tendrils of smoke, had angry red scars where his bindings had rubbed and he had struggled. He ran his knuckles lightly over the King's high cheekbone, leaving a trail of chill where he touched. He had always favored the Elves above all other races, for they were beautiful and delicate, yet fiery and stubborn all at once. They were fun to break, and Melkor had not had a plaything for some time. He was powerful, but he could not awaken the darkness he wished to all on his own. "A noble quest, Thranduil..."

Melkor leaned over then, stooping at the waist so that he might look Thranduil in the eye. Somehow, this elf was able to hold his gaze. Good. That was good. If he had faltered Melkor would know that he would not have been able to withstand any trials he put him through and would have tossed him from his pedestal in the sky to grounds below without a care. It would have almost been a shame, for Thranduil was pleasing to the eye.

"I, too, have been without followers for quite some time..." He traced the bow curve of Thranduil's upper lip with a cold finger before straightening. "I know what it is like, to lose those most loyal to you and to seek to rebuild. I could help you rebuild an army, a Kingdom... ten times more grand and powerful than anything you have ever deemed possible. You could have anyone bend the knee to you..." His eyes flared slightly and he smiled. "You would not have to worry about running again as you have your whole life."

Thranduil sighed. Some things Melkor offered greatly appealed to him, others were clearly immoral. He knew for a fact there were not enough elves in existence to form an army so large, and less who would bend their knee to him at will. The thought of such power combined with Melkor's cold touch sent thrills down Thranduil's spine, and he allowed the Dark Lord to grace his fingers with the feel of such smooth skin. 

The idea of never having to run and hide as he had been in his isolationist fortress was absolutely wonderful. By force and might he would be able to drive anything from his realm (once he regained it, though he knew not how) and rule over a peaceful land where all would serve his will and love him for who he was. Had this offer been given to Oropher, an authoritarian dynasty of fascist Sindar would have been accomplished and all but wiped out the Noldor and Men. Not to mention the Orcs, of course. 

Thranduil wished for a warm embrace and comforting touch but knew he should not seek such things from Melkor. Melkor was evil, and had no love within him. Or so Thranduil thought. 

Thranduil said nothing but Melkor could see the wheels of his mind turning. The elf's skin was smooth to the touch and warm. He gripped Thranduil's chin then, between forefinger and thumb, and turned the others head to look at him. "No answer, Elvenking?" He smiled cruelly. "I did not think there wouldbe, for it is such a large decision. Well, luckily for you, I have need for a new auxiliary, if you would." He tilted Thranduil's head to the side, first to the right, then to the left, as crimson eyes ran over his features. He felt his left cheek, a hand moving over his eye. He could feel the affliction, the lack of sight. 

"It is not a matter of asking you to join me, for I will ultimately take what I desire in the end. I thought I might be kind, however, and perhaps offer something you desire for yourself." A strong hand moved down Thranduil's throat, letting the other feel his power. He did not touch him, but he knew the Kingcould feel the cold as though his fingers of ice were indeed upon him. 

Thranduil stayed perfectly still as chilled fingers touched him, Melkor exploring everything Thranduil was and intended to be with the sheer power he possessed. The Valar could read minds, and Melkor could corrupt them. Thranduil was tempted, very much so to throw himself into the abyss of darkness and let Melkor hold him. Ah, but his mind romanticised the entire affair. Somewhere deep down, he knew this was wrong. A dark lord on a dark throne was not the King he wanted to be. Had he the One Ring, his thoughts might've changed... But as he was now, he was too emotionally vulnerable to do anything but crumble into Melkor's arms and cry. 

He shut his eyes, and stabilised his breathing. It had gotten shallow and quick in the few minutes that had passed. Stepping closer to Melkor, Thranduil spoke. 

"I will consider your offer. But for now... All I..." his voice trailed off. He was not going to tell Melkor all he needed was a friend who would listen to all that ailed him and could not be bothered to talk political decisions at this point. But the situation Thranduil found himself in was weirder than most, and so his voice faltered and went silent. 

The elf he touched was at war with himself, as Melkor had seen many times before. There were few strong enough and pure enough to resist the temptations he could offer. Thranduil's behavior intrigued the Ainu, even after reading his thoughts briefly, for there would be time to delve in deeper and learn the true workings of this creature. His lips quirked up into a smile, the flames behind his eyes flickering as Thranduil tried to speak and then faltered. What he also possessed, was the ability to pick up shreds of that torn connection that remained in the back of the King's mind and touch his own to it. It provided Thranduil a strange, cold warmth, almost like the embrace the other seemed to need, seemed to crave. 

" _It is a great decision... and one I do not expect to receive an immediate answer for. There is time to ponder, for I have waited so many millennia for this resurgence."_

He inclined his dark head to Thranduil, his gaze never leaving the other. " _You may speak to me through here if it pleases you. You seek to be alone yet I sense the need for a quiet companionship for now. Would you humor this ancient being and perhaps spend a while here with me?"_

 _"If you so desire._ " said Thranduil without moving his lips, very much accustomed to the ways of telepathic conversation. Briefly he wondered how Legolas would react when they tried to reinstate their connection only to find there was another voice inside - such a thing was known to drive elves mad, having Valarian or Maiar influence within their minds along with a bond. Thranduil almost felt like a messiah, with one voice telling him to do the bidding of evil and another whispering secret words of love and care. He purposefully hid all thoughts of Legolas from the Dark Lord - his son had been touched by too much corruption for one lifetime. 

" _Might we go somewhere a little more comfortable?"_  Thranduil asked, favouring even the warm, dark grasses of the Dark Lands (which looked suspiciously like Melkor's hair, giving him some idea of what the Vala's true form would look like in size) to this uncomfortably high and chilly platform. Somewhere else, he briefly sensed a feeling as if a door had opened. Likely Melkor could feel it too, due to his connection with all things dark. 

Sauron had finally broken free of the Void, his own magical strength empowered by the last of the elven blood sacrifices in Middle-Earth. So many had tried to defeat Galadriel. So many had failed. And Sauron had escaped from the Void, in a whirl of flame and all-seeing eyes that surrounded his being, observing all that was happening in Arda. But he forgot to close the rift, the tear in time and space to the Void. And a great darkness spread from it, polluting all of Arda from the Sea of Rhûn to the Grey Havens. The dead began to rise. 

Yes, Melkor could feel it for he was bound to his servant as Sauron was to him. The flames behind his eyes flickered wildly for a brief moment, the only indication that he could sense the chains that had been broken. Sauron was freed and so would begin again what they had long sought to accomplish. It was all just beginning, but for now, his attention was focused on the Elf before him. Perhaps Thranduil could help play an instrumental part for him. And if not, at least he could entertain the Vala for a time.

" _But of course..."_ Melkor closed his eyes slowly, focusing as the ground beneath them began to shake and lower slowly. Had anyone seen it would have been a horrifyingly curious sight to see the island of fell grass and dirt lower from the clouds with the Dark Vala standing upon it. When they had reached the ground, Melkor offered his hand to Thranduil. The area surrounding them was dark and cold, the smell of the decay of leaves and fallen trees was heavy here. Their surroundings had a desolate, broken sort of beauty, for there was not an inkling of green in sight. A few yards before them was a wall of black stone, a single wall that was as wide as it was tall. There were no doors, no windows, but they moved towards it slowly and with purpose.

" _If you wish for respite, follow me."_ Melkor smiled at Thranduil as he stood before the door, making a small movement with a slender, pale finger, as though drawing a door that should have been there. What he had drawn in the air had been outline in dark smoke, a tall rectangle that would allow enough height for him to pass through comfortably. He watched Thranduil. " _You have nothing to fear."_

Thranduil did not like where this was going, as there was an uncomfortable deadness all around in these lands he was sure were meant to be bright and lively. With Melkor's presence, the grey and black grass seemed to spread their dark colours along the path both Vala and Elf walked. Thranduil sensed imprisonment and foreboding  from the wall the minute he saw it (not until it was right in front of his face) and briefly wondered if Melkor was going to lock him in an alternate dimension. But he could not sense an active desire to hurt him, and it did feel comforting to hold his hand. Melkor's strength burned as the touch of his skin was cold. To Thranduil, it was an exciting and dangerous combination. 

He nodded towards Melkor, sure that the emotions in his mind spoke more than clear words could (he had gotten much across with Legolas in this way, as strong feelings could reach and automatically invade the other's mind) and stepped through the smoky rectangle with his hand firmly gripping onto what it could. A chill ran down his spine and for a moment hecould see nothing but darkness. 

It reminded him of the time he'd woken up, completely blind. But there was no Legolas by his side nor news of Liliel's death - just this place it seemed Melkor had created for him. And, he could still see. 

Yes, Melkor could sense Thranduil's uncertainty, his fear and his doubt as he passed with him into the hiding space he had created for himself. Nonetheless, the other was brave enough to pass through. He already knew so much about the Mirkwood King and he had only been in the other's presence for only a few minutes' time. Like most elves, Thranduil feared the darkness. It reminded him of his past affliction, and naturally small spaces that offered little light made one feel claustrophobic. It was dark and cold, but Melkor closed his eyes and whispered something soft, a language so ancient and dark few would recognize it. Torches lit the tunnels, one by one, guiding them down the corridors that were created of a roughened stone. There was a dim light at the end, and no tunnels that came off of the sides. There was only one way in this place, and one way out. Unless Melkor wanted to create it so. But for now, this was what the Vala preferred.

 

He said nothing as he led Thranduil down the hall, beckoning the other to follow with a warm tug to their connection. No, he had no intention on hurting this creature, not yet. Melkor was many things but he did allow those who shared his company a fighting chance, an ability to make their own decisions before he ultimately decided to overrule them if he did not like the outcome. The hall stretched for what felt like forever, and when they reached the end, that small light that had been in the distance Melkor revealed to Thranduil where he had dwelt. It was like a small palace, and the ceiling stretched unnaturally high into the sky, a curved dome at the top that could reveal any sort of sky the Vala decided to look at... the sunrise, a sunset red as blood, or the night sky. The darker the better, but it was just a personal preference. It was impossible to tell the time in this place as no natural light would enter here. They were merely within the palace Melkor created in his mind's eye.

The furnishings were sinister and lavish as their master, and a few items included a large four-poster bed with sheets of crimson so silken they looked like liquid in appearance, a large sofa and a chair that one could consider a throne. Here, the voices in their heads made an echoing sound as though they spoke aloud. The carpeting of the stone floor was of blacks and reds, and before them a long table appeared, filled with fresh fruits, cheeses, sweets, and wine.

" _Are you hungry, Thranduil?"_

Thranduil was quite awed at Melkor's living space - the cloth drapery he spied was heavy with dark magic, both stone and carpet imbued with power. This was a place that could be changed to suit the Dark Lord's will at any moment - the table that appeared before them was a testament to that. 

" _Quite so._ " said Thranduil with a gleam in his eyes, the sight of proper food in a place like this easing a subconscious fear of how well Melkor would look after him.  _"I had always thought you would devour the souls of the innocent... not things like this."_

 _"It makes you seem more normal.._." went unsaid but at the back of his mind, with a pleasingly warm feeling of acceptance spreading through their connection. Thranduil had taken a glass in hand and poured some wine, not caring if it was poisoned or not before drinking it down in a few gulps. He hadn't eaten in about two days, and seeing time move so much slower in Melkor's presence it felt like an eternity. Unbeknownst to him, Legolas, Oropher and Liliel were arguing about where the hell Thranduil had gone and disappeared in these lands where the Valar had eyes everywhere, be it in the wind or grass. 

Melkor almost had to laugh at Thranduil's assumption. It was certainly not unfounded and he was certain there were many stories and rumors that floated about regarding the great Lord of the Dark. He watched as the Sinda indulged himself, either uncaring or trusting enough to be unsuspicious of Melkor's motives. It would be too easy to poison the Elf this way, and there was certainly no sport in it. He moved beside Thranduil, and filled his own goblet before taking a long sip. Behind him the hearth lit and a fire began to blaze. " _The souls of the innocent are often my dessert. I like to savor them. But I occasionally desire to dine on food such as this. And I did not think it proper to have my first guest in many millennia  dine on what I prefer."_

Melkor moved slowly to the fire. It crackled wildly even though there were no logs within the stone hearth to feed it. He moved his finger slowly and the flames bowed to his will. He turned to look at Thranduil over his shoulder and smiled. " _Normal? Now, that is a term I do not believe anyone has ever used to describe myself. You are far more charming than I would have first perceived."_

He sensed Thranduil's thoughts drift to his family. " _Indulge as much as you wish."_ A plate of honey cakes appeared beside the carafe of wine Thranduil just used. 

It was as if Melkor knew Thranduil's heart inside and out. When thoughts of family threatened to send his moods awry, a good deal of comfort food could always lift his spirits. 

" _Thank you... truly it feels you know me better than most."_  he thought absently on how everything was dark yet pleasant, and nothing frightened him probably as much as it should. Thranduil was not scared nor suspicious of Melkor, and slowly was forgetting to keep his wits about him the more he indulged his desires. In time he had wandered beside Melkor, watching the flames flicker and dance as if intended for their Lord's entertainment. The glass of wine in his hand reflected the bright light and Thranduil gazed down into it, seeing no reflection of his own face at all. Normally he would have worried, but his mind felt warm and body cool as he stood near Melkor. 

He was pleased and quiet for now, a rare state for the normally demanding Elvenking to be in. Somehow, Melkor was just what he had needed at the right moment - not overwhelming pity or sexual advances to distract, but thought-provoking conversation and an environment he could relax in. Or perhaps it was the Dark Lord's own comfort that seeped into Thranduil's mind through their connection - making everything all the more acceptable and appealing. 

Melkor knew everyone who dared set foot anywhere near him, and it did not take long for him to figure others out. He was nearly as old as time itself and had certainly been around the block more than once. One would think that would make Melkor a colder being, desirous of making any and all living creatures complete and utter slaves to do his bidding, but it was quite the contrary. He was a master of deception, of manipulation, and seduction. He understood the time and careful tuning it took to get one to slowly bend to his will. It was so much sweeter if it was done on the bend-ee's accord, for with a snap of his fingers he could have Thranduil do whatever it was he desired.

 

He merely smiled at the King as he moved beside him, snapping his fingers and allowing the flames to rise a little color. Another small movement of a long, slender finger and the flames turned a deep purple. There were many mirrors in this already large place, lining the wall, near the bed. There was evenone about the hearth, but neither elf nor Vala were reflected within. It was as though neither existed, and this was merely a figment of Thranduil's imagination. He watched the Sinda glance down at the glass he held. He pressed a finger to it and refilled it for him. " _There is nothing to fear, young one. I sense your suspicions and they are not unfounded... but I am not quite so cold and terrible as the stories say."_

Melkor's gaze moved back to the flame, and it caused skin that was pale and bright to glow in an eerie purple light. " _There is more you seek than what you told me in the sky. Tell me, Thranduil... What do you wish for now that you have been granted life everlasting in Aman?"_

Thranduil drank a little more wine, secretly envious of Melkor's ability to refill the glass with just a single touch. Oh, how he wanted to learn how to do that! His eyes shifted to the flames and though they were purple, the slightest bit of fear remained. As long as they were under Melkor's control however, Thranduil felt he would be safe. He knew fire as a wild and dangerous thing, something not to be trifled with. 

 

 _"I shall be honest with you.._." he began, blinking slowly and watching the room turn hazy " _All I want is to be King... to have my son and father safe in a place I own, where none can disobey me... and I want my wife to love me, even against her will_." He smirked a little at that, just imagining the look of defiance in Liliel's eyes slowly fade into submission.  _"I want an army immortal and strong, self sufficient and willing to serve me for whatever purpose... and I want my people to prosper, able to lead the lives they wish naturally and unrestricted."_

He turned to look at Melkor, a hand absently running through long black locks as dark as night itself.  _"I want to be the one who makes the rules... and not worry to uphold them._ " It was rather idealistic of him in more ways than one, but in the darkest most primal depths of his heart it was what he wanted. Granted, he also wanted to be able to fuck his son high above the world on his carven throne surrounded by admirers but perhaps Melkor didn't need to know that. 

Melkor ran his fingertip lazily around the rim of his glass, watching as the wine began to swirl within it before turning his eyes to the King. He stood quietly and listened, allowed Thranduil's hand to run through his hair as though stroking a pet. It was a pleasant change from all those that feared to go near him. The King was uncaring, almost trusting of Melkor, and the Vala smiled to himself at that. The most vulnerable ones, he found, were the ones who did not fight him or resist. There was much that the King did not say through their connection, but he did not need to. He already knew what Thranduil desired the most deeply, but it was always interesting to hear one voice it. 

 

" _It what all who lead desire, Thranduil... It is what every creature from the beginning of time itself have desired."_ Melkor moved from Thranduil's hands and closer to the fire. It shied from him at first, but the Vala spoke softly in the Black Speech, and the flames were coaxed from the hearth and came to greet him, wrapping about his hand in a gentle and warm embrace. It was as though he were calming a wild creature. From Melkor's mouth it was like sweet music, pleasant and soothing, hypnotic, whereas Sauron had taken quite a different spin on it, striking absolute fear into the hearts of others and making blood run cold upon the utterance of a single word. It was a shame, the Vala thought to himself, that this language did not catch on as he would have liked. The Nazgul, some Uruk-hai, and some of Sauron's major lieutenants had been the only ones fluent.

 

His eyes took on a glow as the flames climbed up his arm, and then back down into his hand as he turned his gaze once again to Thranduil. " _I can give you all you desire, Thranduil... I am a generous soul, despite what many say. You needn't but ask. If it is what you wish for, it is yours."_

" _I am grateful for your generosity._." he whispered, watching and listening almost mesmerised from the wine clouding his mind, which had taken a liking to Black Speech as it curled from Melkor's lips like smoke. These flames he saw were a servant to the Dark Lord's will, and they caressed Melkor's hand so gently it seemed they could form hands and stroke along his pale skin. 

 

Thranduil finished his wine and sighed, taking a step towards Melkor. 

" _What is it you would ask of me in return_?" he asked cautiously, inner voice a little deeper and slower as he tried to control his thoughts. He had no clue how far Melkor's fingers could probe into his brain, what thoughts he could have private and what he could speak with as if this were Legolas all over again. 

Melkor smiled simply, bright crimson eyes moving over Thranduil's strong and elegant form. Yes, this elf was quite different than any other he had met. So different from Sauron, yet there was something similar there. It had been so long since he had had contact with his servant that he could hardly remember his face. He moved his hand towards the King, the one encased in flames and whispered something softly. The flames danced before Thranduil's eyes, but no heat could be felt unless the Vala willed it. He knew of Thranduil's fear of smoke and flame and he wished to show him that this would not hurt him, so long as it was under Melkor's control.

 

" _I only ask of your companionship.... for now."_

 

" _Then it is yours._.." Thranduil closed his eyes and found it much easier to lean into Melkor's hand, feeling no searing heat melt his skin off nor smell the burnt cinnamon-like scent of crisp elven flesh. He felt like a puppy leaning to its master's touch, rather than a piece of bacon helplessly frying in its own environment. Thranduil's thoughts moved from bacon to the calming chill and warmth of Melkor's slender fingers, like one who'd been out in the cold yet was loving all the same. Such an odd sensation it was, yet welcome to the admittedly needy King. 

"Mmmm..." he sighed, opening his eyes to flame and darkness. Perhaps it was the wine or the presence in his mind - but somehow, this felt natural. 

 

It was all Melkor wanted, for now. He sought to earn Thranduil's trust and then begin to ask for more and more. Chipping away at one's resolve was deeply satisfying, and it had been long since the Vala could play the field this way. Thranduil did not need to know of his true intentions, not yet. In time he would learn them. Each piece would fall into place exactly like it needed to; no faster, no slower. Thranduil's comfort in his situation radiated off his flesh, from his mind, and Melkor smiled. The flames danced across the King's cheek before disappearing back into the hearth. He sipped from his glass. 

 

He would give Thranduil the things he sought... slowly, of course. Dangle them before him until he begged for it, would do anything so that he might have what Melkor offered. But it would be an eye for an eye. He ran a cool thumb tip over the King's left eye before withdrawing his hand. " _You may have anything you desire in this place. You needn't but ask. It was you who awoken me, whether or not you realize it. A token of my gratitude to you, if it were."_ And it was true. Thranduil's actions had truly been the catalyst for the most recent string of events. Middle Earth had fallen, and the destruction and desolation of the lands, the huge influx of souls, had made Melkor strong enough to break from his bindings in the Void. Many had played a part to bring it to complete ruin, but Thranduil had been the final puzzle piece. Had Legolas had it his way and found a way to succeed and remove Galadriel, he would still be bound in the darkness for another eternity.

Thranduil blinked slowly, knowing that somehow Melkor knew the secrets hidden behind all those glamour charms. Fabulosity wasn't as important to the Dark Lord as Thranduil initially thought - then again, he thought such things were incredibly vital to anyone. 

 

 _"I wish to be in your arms..."_ his inner voice drawled, not bothering to explain. He did love affection no matter who it came from, and as long as nobody tried to disrespect or take advantage of him everything would be fine. To think that Melkor, also known as "the foe of the world" amongst other terrifying things was indebted - no,  _grateful_  to Thranduil and willing to give him anything... it sent a rush of power to the Elvenking's mind. It was a corrupting, sinful thing that flushed his cheeks and brought his lips to smile. He looked into Melkor's eyes with his usual demanding gaze, somewhat petulant and in a way, cute. 

Thranduil did not have to explain. He knew the workings of Thranduil both inside and out. He sought independence but Melkor knew it could never be so. Elves were not meant to be solitary creatures, and Thranduil was a very sexual being who craved affection like he did air to breathe or wine to drink. He felt the rush of power and dominance in the King's mind. He finished the wine in his goblet before it disappeared before their eyes. He would allow the other to feel in control of the situation, for he knew he would forever be all-powerful.

 

But it had been so many millennia since Melkor could hold another who was so lovely and willing. Sauron had been his for a time, but his head had grown so large with power that he was more hell-bent on raising armies than to share the bed occasionally of the one who had given him everything so that he might rule Arda. Slowly, Melkor opened his arms for the King, allowing him to come into them if he wished. He offered darkness, protection, cold and warmth, a strange yet arousing combination. " _Then come into my arms, little one."_

Thranduil's face took a gentle glow of positive emotion as he barely restrained his grin, pulled like a magnet towards Melkor. He wrapped his arms around the Vala and despite feeling short it was not an unpleasant thing - for there was heat in their embrace and a blissful lack of verbal speech. Quiet darkness, heat in his chest, cool air around them. This was the height of any deep feeling Thranduil had ever experienced before. 

 

His face reached just above Angainor, its links tied around Melkor's waist like a reminder that he was bound to some unspeakable fate. Thranduil pressed himself as close as anyone could dare, feeling the essence of the Dark Lord so powerful and all-encompassing he could be swallowed alive and barely notice. Softly he exhaled in content, mind and body completely at ease. Melkor wasn't as bad as Thranduil had thought. The mind games had not yet begun. 

Melkor's arms enclosed around Thranduil's body, long, dark robes of silken fabric nearly engulfing him completely. Thranduil's body was strong and warm against his own. He could feel the King at ease, completely relaxed, and Melkor ran his fingers slowly through his silver hair, weaving it like silk over his fingers. He untangled them and reached to tilt Thranduil's chin upwards to look at him as a smile crossed his beautiful features.

 

" _You have been running for hours, Thranduil. You should rest."_ Melkor's gaze moved to the bed, which appeared closer now than it had previously been. The blankets were soft and inviting, a pool of red velvet and silk. There was much to be done, much for Thranduil to learn. He did not wish for the King tobe dead on his feet with exhaustion. It was a strange thing, to tire so easily, for Melkor never tired. He did not understand the concept well, having never experienced it before, but he had seen it enough in others to know that is likely what Thranduil felt and would require respite.

" _Take me there.._." his mind whispered, as a fleeting thought perhaps a little shy to ask. There was a desire within Thranduil, something quiet and curious that wished to be held in Melkor's strong arms like a kitten in a basket, surrounded by all that he was and aimed to be. A glance to the side saw the bed looking so inviting, Thranduil wished he could be nude and spread upon its velvety red sheets. He did love things of silk and softness, though his legs felt heavy as if they did not hold the strength to walk the short distance. Elves were meant to be tireless, but elflings slept heaps just as older elves could not expect their bodies to undertake gruelling tasks of panic and war without a bit of fatigue. 

 

He peered up at Melkor with a lazy little smile, his long eyelashes sweeping down as he blinked and left his eyes closed. Half lidded they opened again, a strong drowsiness falling over Thranduil's conscience. 

It was not just Thranduil's natural fatigue from the course of events that left him barely able to stand upon his own two feet. There was something in the air of this place, a spell that helped those within relax, to ease fear, doubt, and uncertainty from deep within. Melkor just smiled down at Thranduil and bent slightly to lift him into his arms, moving him onto the bed. Setting the King down carefully he turned his eyes skyward to the domed ceiling of the cave. The darkness within faded and swirled into stars of the night sky, as clear and twinkling as it was in Mirkwood. Thranduil could see anything Melkor allowed him to, but he knew the sight of the starlight was most loved by the Woodland Elves.

_"Sleep, Thranduil... There is nothing that shall harm you here so long as I am with you."_

Thranduil smiled blissfully at the familiar sight above, eyes slowly unfocusing and taking in the sparkle amongst darkness all elves found beautiful. Like white gems in the sky, the sight of starlight brought to him memory and recollection of many things. His mind swam with warmth and barely noticed itself nestling further into Melkor's clutches. 

 

He drew the silken sheets over himself and rolled in them a little, taking a sprawled position that would invite one to drift their eyes past flashes of exposed neck and ankle to perhaps wonder what was underneath. Thranduil soon fell into the usual elven resting state, a light thing of meditation and regenerative magic combined to simulate 'sleep'. Only, Thranduil did it with his eyes closed unlike many other elves. One could tell he had fallen asleep once his eyes were shut, and saw nothing more. 

 

Thranduil's mind processed in its sleep - all that had happened, all that would. He was not too good with foresight but when it came, it was truth. He dreamt of Legolas, Liliel, Oropher, Galion, Elrond, Gil-Galad... so many folks that would be affected by his new alliance with Melkor. And he didn't even worry. Surely no harm would come to those he loved the most. 

Melkor's eyes did not leave Thranduil's form until well after he had found sleep. He was a lovely creature, really, with a beauty almost comparable to his own. For when Melkor was created he was the most beautiful of the Valar and he took great pleasure in things of beauty. There was an innocence about him, despite all of his sins that had come to pass that flickered to him, drawing the Vala to him like a moth to a flame. Something so beautiful did not deserve to be removed from this world, or stomped out. Rather, Melkor sought to manipulate and bend things slowly into something else, much like he had taught the flames to bend to his will and to burn only when he commanded them to do so.

 

He ran his hand lightly over Thranduil's face, gently, a ghost of a touch as the other's mind faded into darkness for a moment, indicating that he had fallen asleep. But soon he began to think, to think and to dream, and Melkor saw all of those who were important to him, all who would be affected by the new bond their father, husband, son, and lover had established with the Lord of Darkness, the Master of Deception. And Melkor would ensure that no harm came to them so long as Thranduil obeyed him, for he knew just what strings to pull and buttons to push to get his way in the end, should he need to do so. The threat of loss and the power giving something again that had been lost for so long were two powerful things. Melkor smiled once more down at Thranduil, and then turned to the fire again. Within them he could see Sauron, and the destruction that was beginning to befall Arda once again. These images were for his eyes only, for the fire only spoke to their master. And they were a beautiful sight indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally opened this chapter to my friend with: "one SESSY SUN BAKED MELKOR coming right up!" - I'd intended for that long grass to be his hair, as if he was stuck in the ground or something and when Thranduil stepped on him, he was like 'da fuk?' and rose up, all majestic. But apparently she had other ideas XD So this is what we worked with! Nice, eh? I love dat Melk.
> 
> Me: Thranduil, Sauron  
> Partner: Melkor


	20. 4-9 : The Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIT'S GETTING REALLY BAD REALLY FAST!!! Super intense!   
> Meanwhile - Neglectolas really needs some lovin' and bitterness breeds where Thranduil has left vacant space.  
> Melkor, meanwhile, does his thing. kek kek kek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written Jan 31 - Feb 5.  
> This chapter is exceedingly long. 11,091 words long to be exact. B)

Meanwhile in the forest, news had been heard of the horrors now present in Middle-Earth. Elves were running in one direction, to the place they could see what was going on in the world so separate from their own. Oropher had been looking for Legolas - a week had passed since Thranduil had disappeared and the Prince had seemed quite distressed without his father. This event that now required their attention was something serious, as all elves were bound to the fate of Arda as the creatures who were first born to love it, then to protect it.

"Legolas!" he called, searching throughout his house with absolutely no trace of an 'inside voice' "Where are you?!"

Legolas had spent a week of sleepless nights alone and far from anyone who dared to speak to him. He tossed and turned in his bed, his head still pounding terribly from where their connection had broken. He had left for several days to search for the King, only to come up empty. None had seen him outside of the Great Forest, and he had spoken frantically to any soul who would listen, asking for any and all sign of him. Nothing. Distraught, he had returned to Oropher and holed himself away in the room he had shared with his father, sick with worry, and his anxiety was all consuming. For the most part, Oropher had let him be, knowing that he was incredibly distressed without the King. It was not so much that they were not together, but it was that he did not know where Thranduil was, if he was even alive. Of course if something horrible had happened, he would just be Reborn, but he had heard nothing from him, and he was hurt beyond measure that Thranduil had not made an attempt to reach out to him.

Sitting quietly, Legolas stared out of the great window in his room that overlooked the forest when he heard Oropher's booming voice calling for him. He stayed seated, hoping that his grandfather would give up and just go about his daily business. But even Legolas, lost in all of his own thoughts, his own dark world and alternative universe he had created in his mind where he could only speculate about Thranduil's whereabouts, had sensed the darkness and disease that was growing and spreading like a plague. But the Prince did a very unLegolas thing then: he ignored it. The fate of the world was no longer his concern. Thranduil was, and if he couldn't even figure out where he was, what good did it do to give a damn about anything else. But there was distress in Oropher's voice and he was certain the other would keep calling to him until the whole tree shook, so he stood, reluctantly, and went to the source of the voice. Finally, when he saw him, his voice was soft. "I am here, Daeradar."

Oropher sighed the moment he saw Legolas and stiffly folded his hands behind his back, reading the look on his grandson's face. He felt pity deep in his cold heart, for there was a void without Thranduil - the only person he could ever count as a true, nonromantic companion. He was not good at relating nor comforting Legolas however, and spoke professionally with a hint of weariness to his voice.

"There is a matter that requires your attention, or at least knowledge of it. Might I ask you to journey with me to the A.V?" The abbreviated term was used for something not often discussed in Oropher's house, but it was an interesting part of life in Aman all the same. He had only been to it a few times, before not bothering himself with the fate of Arda any longer. In any case, Oropher was asking Legolas without demand as he usually did - he understood how the Prince felt in a way and would not force him to do anything against his will. Were it any other elf, they would have been bent to Oropher's will if he could be bothered. But not Legolas. Oropher loved him.

Had Oropher even offered him an ounce of comfort Legolas was not sure he would have taken to it. His eyes were cold and his face unreadable as he listened to what was asked of him. Truthfully, he cared not for the outside world at the moment. Everyone could suffer and burn for all he cared because the one person on this earth or in the next he truly could count on had abandoned him. Legolas had freed Thranduil from his arguments with Liliel, and he ran from him. It was something that, if ever addressed again, would be difficult for the Prince to forgive. Yes, he was bitter, hurt, and angry. Thranduil had forsaken him in this place he had been forced to go to. He had taken Legolas' life only to leave him.

Not once did Legolas speak of Thranduil to Oropher, when they spoke at all. Without Thranduil here there was definitely a void, and Legolas found that he could relate to his grandfather even less now that the King was not acting as a mediator. He knew Oropher loved him, but it was nothing close to the love Thranduil had shown him. "I will go with you." Was all he said, his voice even and devoid of any emotion. This was likely in regards to the darkness that could be felt across the lands. He had watched Middle Earth burn. If it happened a second time, what did it matter?

Oropher was almost glad for the silence, for he was not very good at conversation when it came to things like this. He wasn't used to showing compassion or subtlety at all - he was black and white, with no grey area between.

 

He gestured for Legolas to follow him, and they made their way out of the forest together. Their direction turned in a few places, and more trees appeared until there was a canopy over their heads. And so they walked until the ground turned lush with lime green grass, pale blue flowers dotted like stars all around. Many white carven benches wrought of beechwood up high in still-living trees rose in beautiful arched forms. Glittering silver, gold and ebony hair of the elves cascaded down from above, as they sat in the trees and reclined on the benches with an air of lofty grace. Their fair faces were turned towards a wide pool of mercurial liquid, upstanding like a portal between two trees that intertwined their multicoloured leaves in a dazzling canopy above. This was the AV, known as "Ardavision" among the elves of Aman. Here could be seen a vision, comprised of all the things they wished to see happening in Middle-Earth. Privacy and buildings could not be invaded, but there could be seen in certain corners some Noldor of Imladris dragging their wounded across the Bruinen, Dwarves of Erebor quarrelling outside the city of Dale over who knows what, and the desolate Mirkwood forest with its ancient burnt trees, strong and silent. On the grass also sat many elves, surrounding the Vala Nienna who peered sorrowfully into the standing pool with silver tears running down her face. Here in these lands the Valar and Elves shared a great friendship, for nobody was kinslaying and lusting after power. They shared all of Aman, and as such the elves could roam free in Valinor just as the Valar could walk on the shores of the Eldamar to see how the isolationist Teleri were doing.

 

Now, everyone was looking with great distress in their hearts towards the pool. The current "channel" everybody was interested in was the Lorien feed, showing Galadriel fending off armies of Men and even Orcs who wanted to see who could best the Mad Lady of the Golden Wood. But there were more than just elves fighting on her side - creatures of human appearance with bits of their bodies hacked off and decaying were throwing themselves at anything that came close, falling from the dead trees and rising from the ground. The orcs who were killed stayed dead, but the Men stood as if given life anew.

 Oropher lead Legolas to the edge of the grass, and gently nudged him forwards. "Take a look, as your curiosity guides you. It will show you what you want to see, be it joyous or fell." Everything except Thranduil could be seen if Legolas willed it with his mind, but Oropher essentially wanted his grandson to be aware of the state of Arda before he holed himself up and sulked forever.

Legolas had not seen anything like this in his long life, and the sense of fear, grief, and dread was heavy on the air. The Elves that surrounded them were fixated on the standing pool and the images that it provided. There was destruction and violence, death and sorrow. What was the most concerning, even more so than Galadriel extending her power to all edges of the world were the dead that had risen to fight for her. None had risen save for Men, and their decaying corpses were the epitome of absolute gore and horror. They fought for Galadriel, their eyes dull and unseeing, as though under control of some deeper and darker force. He still as he felt Oropher's hand behind him, urging him forward to look. Legolas swallowed hard and felt himself go colder still, dread of a different nature gripping his heart. For those moments he forgot Thranduil and focused on what was happening.

 

He moved towards the standing pool slowly, reaching out to touch it, as though ensuring this was reality and no terrible dream. Legolas' fingers dipped within and the ripples spread from his fingertips as though he had disturbed the surface of a lake. A warmth took hold of his mind, and the images Legolas could see within his mind were meant for him alone and no other's eyes. His mind turned to Mirkwood, burnt to the ground but their palace left standing, desolate and abandoned, amongst the ashes. Then, it moved to Gondor for his thoughts had still remained with those of the Fellowship after all of this time. What he saw was panic as orcs invaded and creatures of the dark swarmed the city. Their King, Aragorn, was nowhere in sight and Legolas feared the worse, for if he went to fight Galadriel herself, even someone so skilled as he would not be able to stand a chance. The Prince could have reached for him, but he found he could not, so his thoughts then drifted to his father. He could see nothing. Only darkness. The inside of his head proceeded to burn terribly and he yanked his hand back with a hiss, stumbling backwards to his knees as nausea took hold of him and he emptied the contents of his stomach into the grass.

Legolas had disconnected himself from that world, and the world he now had lived in since Thranduil's disappearance, preferring the walls of his own mind since he felt so lost. He shook for a moment, heaving softly as he tried to comprehend what he saw. The ability to see nearly anywhere in Middle Earth terrified him beyond all else. Sometimes it was best not to know fate. Ignorance was bliss, as they said. He knew that no matter where he looked, he would not like what he saw. He stood slowly, and moved back to Oropher. Legolas was a compassionate creature by nature, strong-willed and fiery but would often put all others, all else before himself. But he had grown cold, uncaring of the outside world in a short span of time. He did not feel like himself. He hated it. And he resented his father for it. He turned his head to meet his grandfather's eyes, saying nothing about what he had seen, but his hands shook slightly, although his voice remained steady. He could maintain a cool control when he saw fit, as Thranduil had taught him. It was imperative for a royal to know how to mask any and all emotions to protect himself.

"Why did you bring me here?" He murmured under his breath. "That world is no longer my concern, and I am certain it is not yours."

"Soon it will become so." said Oropher, standing straight with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "I have seen things... regarding both your father's fate and ours." His foresight was indeed powerful and could be called upon at almost any time, for whatever purpose he needed it. "All of us will be called to fight against the Darkness in Arda... if you have heard of Dagor Dagorath, this is essentially it." He turned his cool emerald gaze to the pool and watched the death and destruction - but cared for not a single thing at all. He spoke to Legolas without making eye contact.

"I do not wish to go. But I have seen that I will. You too, and Thranduil, and Liliel... I wanted you to see what you will be getting into." For one to enter such a dangerous world without prior knowledge would certainly mean an untimely death. Oropher looked down towards Legolas and had quite a grim expression on his pale face. He didn't want to do any of this shit, but there was an old desire for bloodshed within him that had never been truly quenched. He knew if he was King over his folk in times of war, the Sindar and Silvan would never be the same again. For when the land they stood on was corrupt, so too became their hearts and minds.

Legolas moved past Oropher, wishing to look no longer. He had heard of Dagor Dagorath, the Battle of Battles. It was essentially the end of all things, Middle Earth's equivalent of the Apocalypse. The skies would be starless, painted black, and the rivers and forests would run red with blood. It would be Melkor's coming, and likely Sauron as well, spawning all the creatures of nightmares. The dead would rise and fight for him, and those who did not bow before him would perish. The trees of the forest would wither and die, the animals would fight and kill each other, until there was no life left in Arda save for the foul things of Melkor's army that still drew breath. Galadriel's battle, her raging madness, had only been a taste and it left a bitter taste in the Prince's mouth. He wanted no part of it. Part of Legolas wanted to perish, to be done with all of this.

 

But Oropher had a powerful gift of foresight Legolas could never touch, for he was not gifted with such things. He knew then that he would no choice but to take part in this as he would have begged Thranduil to do had he still been here. "If my father plays a part... what is it?" Legolas moved close to Oropher, placing his hand upon his grandfather's arm. His grip was firm, demanding his attention, to be looked in the eye. Oropher had seen things and had never said a word to Legolas. "You have seen something that you are not telling me, Daeradar. If I am to agree to this, you need to tell me what you know."

Oropher turned his full attention to Legolas, and it was a fiercely scrutinous thing that none could interrupt.

"Thranduil will be taken by darkness. And there is a prophecy told that the world will break and be made anew, and good shall triumph over evil." Inwardly, he was hesitant to tell the rest of what he had seen that week, the flames etched behind his eyeballs and the cries of Sauron desperate and accusing. But Legolas needed to know, and Oropher saw no reason to hide it any longer. He was honest with his family but deceitful with everyone else. He did not need to protect his grandson from reality at all. "I saw fire, tasted bitterness, and heard his voice. He is not lost yet, but on the path to becoming so."

Oropher unfolded his hands from behind his back and ran his fingers through Legolas's hair, sighing quietly. He missed his son terribly, but could seek no comfort nor support for the matter. He was not an elf with too many friends, after all. His hand came to rest on Legolas's shoulder and his voice saddened just a little.

"We Sindar will walk from the Helcaraxë to Erebor and all over Middle Earth, amongst traitors of our own kin and dark powers infiltrating our ranks. Your father may be swayed in the direction of evil if given enough time. And that is what I have seen." He looked away, unwilling to continue this any longer. It hurt, to speak of his beloved little flower as if he was an intelligent Orc-spawn hell bent on destroying the elves. He could only hope Thranduil would remain strong.

Legolas knew how deeply Oropher missed his son, and also knew that the Prince could not replace the void in his heart where Thranduil was missing from. Likewise, Oropher would never be, and could never be, enough consolation for Legolas' own loss, for he felt it deeply like a tear in his very soul. Oropher's words were dark and foreboding when he spoke of Thranduil, and Legolas feared for him, and feared that he would indeed succumb to the dark if he hadn't already. It make Legolas' stomach twist to know how easily he himself had been persuaded, for the Black Speech had been forced through his very lips. He still remembered the bitter and sour taste of orc blood on his tongue.

He held Oropher's gaze firmly, never looking away, never wavering. "You say these things... but is there a way that it can be stopped?" As angry as he was, Legolas never wished such a fate upon his father, and it made him sick to think of the horrors he would go through to get to this state. He reached up to place his hand atop Oropher's. "Surely there is a way to keep him from falling into shadow... He is stronger than the Darkness." He had to be, and Legolas wanted to believe it so.

"Fate cannot be stopped, Legolas..." said Oropher quietly, a depressive gaze in his eyes. "Thranduil will go through much and be torn to pieces, his heart sundered between two folk. One of them is you... help him if you can." Oropher could not look at anything but the floor now, and the grass beneath his feet shivered a tad as if it could feel his emotions. No, he told himself. _No feelings allowed_. Useless, petty things. The world moved no matter what he did. For good or evil, it would all turn out as it was prophesied by the Ainur so many Ages ago.

Oropher knew Thranduil was strong - not as much as himself, but still a force to be reckoned with. Alas, he was tempted too easily and would give in to pleasure while being stubborn to common sense. With the right fingers poking him, Thranduil could be bent and twisted  until the worse parts of himself overtook his whole being.

"As for the rest of Arda... when we get there, we shall see. But it will not be an easy win." he finished, giving just a final conclusion regarding the state of the world and nothing else. As much as he hated to admit it, he was tired and wished to listen to the solutions to all his problems, then fall back asleep for a few more millennia. But he was not going to run this time. He would not let a darkened Thranduil lead their folk.

Oropher's words ran deep in Legolas' heart and he knew it was something he would hear in his mind over and over again, like a broken record, until the end of all of this. _Help him if you can_. Legolas did not understand and did not wish to comprehend the other who would tug at the other half of Thranduil's heart. Perhaps it had been the force that had guided him away from Legolas, and the Prince wondered how he could compare to someone so powerful who could pull Thranduil from what felt like a world away into nothingness, twisting things so that he might make no contact with his son, his beloved one. At least, Legolas had thought that he was beloved, his father's chosen one. They were more similar than different and Legolas had thought of Thranduil as the other half of his heart. They could connect through mind and spirit, sometimes even body as a bonded pair might, but that did not matter now, because Thranduil was gone. Legolas was beginning to wonder if it had all been in his mind this whole time, because it felt like ions ago since they held one another. The shreds of a link to the King within his mind were still raw, and when the time came again where Thranduil would reach out to him as Oropher seemed to think, Legolas knew the reforging would be painful.

He reached up now, to touch Oropher's face with his hand. He could feel the his sadness and knew that his grandfather would likely not wish for displays of affection, but Legolas' heart had been so cold and knowing he would see Thranduil again made him crave a gentle, reassuring touch. His hands were warm on Oropher's cheek before they moved to his chest and despite himself, Legolas pressed himself into the other's arms, all of the emotions he had kept inside him bubbling up despite himself.

"If there is a chance to change things for the better, I will take it, Daeradar."

"You truly are brave..." he murmured, knowing Legolas was indeed of his blood and would not shy away from life. He wrapped his arms around the Prince, feeling much like he was comforting his own son once more. As such he offered all the warmth and security he could, knowing Legolas needed to feel somewhat less alone.

 

"You will need to stay close to him no matter what happens." Oropher said softly, allowing Legolas to stay in his arms for as long as he needed. "Neither of us... should have to lose him again."

 

 Thranduil may not have known it but his presence affected many, in ways he could not even think about. He never considered the deeper psychological effects of his absence - who would miss him, who would hate him, who would mourn and pray for his return... He was impulsive, and did what he wished whenever without care for consequence. He was careful when it came to interacting with the outside world, but when safe and in his own environment he could be as carefree as an elfling who didn't even know the words for 'danger' and 'war'. Now, those two things were on the doorstep of the Fourth Age and all those in existence would be called to fight. But he didn't know that. He slept, on Melkor's bed with his arms spread and upper body completely bare as if life were nothing more than a spiral of seduction and indulgence. For him, it had been. But things were about to change.

Legolas turned his head instinctively, pressing his ear to Oropher's chest just above his heart and listening to the strong, steady thrum of his heartbeat. It comforted him, reminding all of the time listening to Thranduil's heart would ground him and allow him to find solace even when it felt like his world was falling apart. It had been one of the more difficult things he had to deal with while in the Fellowship. He had no one but himself to rely on when it came to self comfort. He had dealt with it well enough but nothing compared to the strong arms that would envelope him, Thranduil's whispered words of unconditional love. Nothing could touch him in that place.

 

He did not move from Oropher's embrace, grateful that he was not being pushed away and that his grandfather seemed to wish for him to stay there as long as he needed to. He needed more, so much more, and he did not know what to do. There was no one he could ask, no way to find the comfort he lacked. His fingers reached up on their own accord to twirl a loose lock of soft silver hair in his fingers, so long it nearly touched the floor. "No matter what... I will remain close to him when he decides it is time to return." Legolas knew he could do nothing but, for in his mind he was bound to the other and could not survive without him. No matter what happened to Thranduil, he would have to find it in his heart to forgive him, to hopefully help him see. Despite all that happened and the ill will Legolas harbored towards the King, he would have to see past it. He found he had no choice.

 

Melkor had allowed Thranduil to indulge himself however he saw fit, and the Vala ensured that his needs were seen to. He continued to groom and coax and whisper sweet words of comfort and honeyed seduction in his ear as the world burned and died beyond the reality he had created for them. Dagor Dagorath had already been initiated and the pull for his arrival was becoming stronger with each passing day. He was slow about it, taking his sweet time for he found that he enjoyed the attentions and absolute sense of worship that Thranduil bestowed upon him. Melkor was giving him everything, after all.

 

Never once since Thranduil had set foot in this place did Melkor speak to him verbally as he had upon the platform. He eased himself into the King's mind, each time they connected the bond between them grew stronger, the forged chain between them growing stronger. He moved towards the bed now, having watched his flames for a time before turning his eyes to Thranduil. The King was luxurious here, almost lazy in a sensual sort of way. He sat upon the edge of the bed beside him and ran his cool fingers along the King's bare arm to his chest, moving an open palm over his chest, feeling the heat of Thranduil's breast mix with his own chilled flesh. " _There is something I wish to teach you today, beautiful one. Would you like a lesson?"_

_"Yes.."_ came the immediate response, soft and of agreement so pure there was no room for underlying suspicions or manipulation on Thranduil's behalf. He was in a heavenly, dreamy state in Melkor's world where material things came from thin air, wine was an infinite substance and he could indulge in the sheer power of Valarian creation as if it were at his own fingertips. He felt Melkor's cool touch at his chest and opened his eyes, a content smile blooming upon his calm face.

_"What do you wish to teach me?"_ he asked as his hand reached up to slide through strands of Melkor's hair, taking pleasure in the simple act of feeling the dark silken lengths. Like ebony, that hair was. So dark no light could reflect off it - for it was sucked into the depths until all was shadow and sight grew dim. Of course Thranduil had the typical elven fetish surrounding hair, but he would never speak of such things to the Dark Lord. He simply liked to touch him. For he knew no-one else could.

Melkor allowed himself to be 'pet' by Thranduil, finding a sense of enjoyment and contentment, if you could call it that, by the simple gesture and gentle touches. He reached to run his knuckles lightly, tenderly along the King's cheek. Not once had Thranduil demanded a thing from him while he was here, and Melkor was surprised by that. So easy it was, to get greedy in a place like this where one could have anything they desired. Well, almost anything. He reached to curl his hand around Thranduil's, taking him by the wrist and urging him to sit up.

_"It is something I thought you might wish to learn."_ He would require Thranduil to learn it, to teach him how to wield small powers that he might delight in. It had been so long since he had taught another, instructed a young one in any way. Melkor released the King's hand, beckoning him to follow without a motion or a word, but simply a light tug on his mind, like one might a slightly hesitant dog on a leash. No true force, but a gentle firmness. He moved to the fire and turned to face the King. His fair form, dark and glorious, was a mere silhouette in the dancing reds and orange colors.

Thranduil rose from the bed and gracefully stepped after Melkor, curious as to what ancient knowledge he may be gifted with now. Few times had he been gifted with magic - once by his father, once by his own will and others he had developed over thousands of years.

Melkor turned to him and if Thranduil were lesser he would have fallen to his knees at the sight, awed by the sheer magnificence of the Dark Lord. His mind registered some serious appreciation there, and his soft grey eyes turned to look into Melkor's, glimmering shades of blue with excitement.

_"My mind is open to any knowledge you shall bestow upon me._ " said Thranduil with a smile, heeding their unspoken rule of communicating only through the mind. Briefly he wondered if he would be able to shoot fire from his eyeballs or something, and the thought amused him. He could imagine wandering over to Liliel, staring at her butt and turning the back seat of her pants to a crisp. Already his thoughts had begun to liken to more malicious ideals, though they were only innocently mischievous at the moment.

Melkor almost chuckled at the image he saw in Thranduil's mind. Slowly, ever so slowly, the King's ideas and thoughts became slightly more devious, though they were more mischievous than anything now. Soon they would turn to something dark, and deeper. Thranduil would learn from him, or unlock potential he never realized he had. The elf moved towards him willingly, his mind and heart open to him to take in whatever the Vala had to offer. He wondered, briefly, if Thranduil would bow down to him if he merely asked. The time would come, however, and Melkor would not push. Thranduil would play a great part in all of this, and it would be so beautiful to watch the King turn to his darker thoughts and evolve into something more than he was now.

There would be a time for him to return to the Elves he had run from. There would be poison from within their ranks when they returned to fight the war that was brewing. Thranduil would help spread it. Melkor extended a long arm and reached into the fire. A few of the flames crawled up his arm, weaving about his neck before moving to his other, dancing finally in his palm before Thranduil's eyes.

_"I will need you to listen carefully to me when I teach you this, little one."_ Melkor's crimson eyes narrowed and the flames threatened to lick at the King's face. They were warm for a moment, before going cool. " _It is a beautiful thing, and powerful, to bend the elements to one's will. There will come a time where you will be required to wield this great power, and I wish to teach you to do so well so you do not injure yourself. One mistake and..."_ The flames exploded on cue before Thranduil's eyes, crackling in red sparks before reappearing in his palm again. _"And that is that."_

Melkor smiled down at Thranduil, moving closer to him until the toes of their boots touched. He cupped the flames carefully. " _Do you trust me? If there is not complete and utter trust here, Thranduil... You will burn again. I do not wish that..."_

Thranduil flinched slightly at the exploding flame, though he did not scream and run as he once might have. He maintained eye contact with Melkor, holding out one hand in a motion of open receiving. Melkor was powerful, he was in control, the master of ice and fire. Thranduil trusted him with these things.

Silently he nodded, knowing Melkor could sense and feel his resolute belief in him. A part of his mind, one that held trauma and fear became closed to the world, and he pictured the dimming of flames within himself as he extinguished the embers of long lost fright. He felt ready. Thranduil awaited Melkor's instruction, entire being focused on the dark silhouette so close before him it was like a shadow came to take his soul. In a way, it almost had.

Thranduil's ability to calm himself amongst the flame was impressive, even to Melkor, the most powerful of all of the Valar. He knew of the King's fear of flame, but this one was under his control, and soon, it would be under Thranduil's control. He reached to touch the King's hand, closing both of his own around them. He squeezed the elf's hand gently, and when he removed his own hands, a single flame, cool to the touch, light as a feather, danced from Thranduil's palm as though trying to learn its new master. The flame jumped to the King's shoulder, over his chest, before settling back into Thranduil's hand.

_"I knew that you were interested in this when you first saw it happen... Your mind tells it what you wish. You need not say a word if you do not wish it. It can become as warm and cool as you like, but you must maintain a steady contact with it, coaxing it gently while it gets to know your touch before you can ask more of it."_

Thranduil watched with wide, curious eyes as the flame danced about like a sparrow flitting around his upper body. A gleeful smile spread across his face, and he stared intently at this new power he held. The King did not ask anything of the fire yet, rather he cautiously ran the index finger of his other hand along its length, watching the orange glow shift on his skin until the flame gently split and licked around his finger. It moved around as he made minuscule motions, not poking or prodding but rather taking part in the flickering dance as if learning to become part of the fire himself.

_"It's pretty..."_ he softly observed within his own mind, realising for the first time that fire could be beautiful and not a thing to shy away from in terrible fear. He liked this, the feeling of control that swelled within him in tandem with the pleasure that came from being able to approach something with caution and patience. Life had not given him many opportunities to do such things.

Yes, it was pretty, and the sight before him of Thranduil learning how to become of it almost warmed Melkor's cold heart. He was gleeful, like a young thing, and the fire took to him as Melkor knew it would, as he willed it, for the Vala ultimately had full power over all in this place. But he allowed Thranduil to think that he was in full control of the flame. It was better that way. His smile glittered in the firelight and his hand moved through the King's silver hair. _"Fire is a powerful thing, Thranduil, and I know you are aware of this."_ Melkor's other hand moved over Thranduil's face slowly, stopping just over his left eye, he closed his own and for a moment, he allowed Thranduil to see through his own and he could share in the fancy that he was not blind.

_"What else do you wish to learn, my sweet? You are doing well..."_

"Ooh..." Thranduil saw through Melkor's eyes and though disorienting for a moment, he felt a surge of the confidence he had only tasted in the early days of the Second Age. He relished the newfound sight he now possessed, even if only for a few moments. With fire in his palm and the Dark Lord's hand in his hair, he felt not a delusion but a legitimate experience of power.

_"I shall learn whatever you wish..."_ he murmured, voice low and reverent "For I know not of the extent your powers reach. _Teach me anything you will... my Lord."_ He was warming quickly to Melkor's grooming, the fire heating ever so slightly with Thranduil finding it comfortable in his hand. A soft sigh left him, for there was great pleasure he took in having Melkor so close, touching him. And now that he could see with perfect clarity, it was a dream come true. A dream he didn't know he had until moments ago.

Melkor felt Thranduil's confidence swell like a rising tide and he moved to stand behind the other, his hands moving over the King's bare shoulders, beneath his arms, and finally to cup his outstretched hand as the fire jumped from one palm to the other. He could feel its warmth and he allowed it to burn a little brighter before them. He leaned down to rest his chin on the King's shoulder, a lock of long ebony hair cascading over Thranduil's bare chest.

 

He moved his hand back to hover over Thranduil's eye, continuing to allow him his full vision, sharper than ever, and uninhibited by affliction or injury. _"Do you desire things to be as they were, my pet?"_ Melkor's voice was warm as it purred in the back of Thranduil's mind, turning the King to face him and whispering a soft word aloud. His voice cloaked Thranduil's body and he removed his hand. The vision remained, clear as day. " _You could be whole again, if I willed it to be so. You would be so powerful this way, and those you wished to bow before you would do so without question._ " Melkor's own eyes flickered with an everlasting flame. _"I could give you the sight the dragon stole from you."_

He smirked, leaning in closer. _"There is still much to learn, before I send you on your way again."_

Thranduil groaned very softly, the words exciting him deep within his heart. The first thing he should have done was correct Melkor for referring to him as his pet - he was a King, above all else and never one's pet - but found a sense of protection and familiarity with the term. Only Melkor could address him as such. Nobody else would ever have such privilege.

As he held his eyes wide open without strain (his gaze was naturally such) Thranduil took in the sight of Melkor with his own two eyes, restored to their own superb elven vision. He did not even want to blink, and thought to himself how terribly beautiful Melkor was up close. He could see every hair pushing from beneath pale skin to form sharp, angular eyebrows... the depths of fiery eyes like the swirling depths of hell brought alive... Oh, how tantalising were those words that spilled from Melkor's lips! But they were in his own mind, and he was staring at the smirk that formed on the face before him. To have people bow to him... and his sight restored.. Melkor knew just what Thranduil wanted and offered it like a plate of honey pastries right before his nose.

"I will take what you offer me..." he said softly, leaning ever so slightly closer to Melkor as if he would dare to kiss him. Thranduil was a sexual creature by personal nature, and in Middle-Earth of course there were mythical races made to lure Men into their traps with pure seduction.. the elves were not one of them, but Thranduil was as needy and wanton as any. How he wished to press his body against Melkor, be held and share in his power, feel the fire within spread until he could burn without a care in the world. He didn't know he was smiling, nor did he know he was somewhat hard. And he looked into Melkor's eyes, losing himself.

Of course Thranduil would take what Melkor offered him, for it was difficult to deny the Vala, particularly in this Elven form that catered to the King's desires. His other forms were far more fearsome and terrible, but he had not wished to school Thranduil by use of fear and force. Fear would be instilled if it would have to be, and force would only be used if necessary. Melkor was a master of the mind and he preferred psychological tactics above all else. He could read Thranduil like an open book, and knew of the Elf's attraction. What he desired was dangerous, for it was to lay with the Devil himself. And Melkor did not think he was ready, not just yet.

Thranduil's methods of seduction, however, were difficult to deny or ignore, but Melkor was highly aware of them. He leaned in close, very close, and tilted his head slightly so that their lips might ghost together. His breath was spicy like wine, with the smell of burning wood and exotic spices, of the cold chill on a winter's morn. Melkor allowed Thranduil a moment to taste him if he wished, before he pulled back slightly, his eyes flickering as he willed the flames back into the hearth.

_"Very good, precious one..."_ He ran a hand slowly down Thranduil's bared chest, resting just above the waistband of his leggings. His hand was cool on the warm flesh of his belly. _"I know what it is you desire of me, and it will come to you in time when you show me you are ready. For if you lie with the Vala of the Dark it is a difficult thing to withstand, for nothing in your long years of life could prepare you for it."_

Melkor straightened slowly, his hand moving up slowly to cup Thranduil's chin, tilting his gaze upwards. _"You will have to be patient, and willing to accept all consequence._ " Not only physical, but psychological... for Melkor knew full well that when Legolas reestablished a connection with the King that there would be hell to pay.

_"I am patient..."_ said he, an understanding gaze taking his seductive one " _I can wait."_ The taste of Melkor lingered lightly on his lips, the touch just moments prior cool and warm all at once. Thranduil tried to imagine what it would be like were he to couple with Melkor - could he shoot flames from his dick, transform an elf into a monster, shatter one's mind apart? Thranduil wondered, but he left it at that. He would not ask Melkor for something if the Vala thought it too early for such a thing. For Thranduil had already accepted that Melkor, an ancient and wise being, knew more than him and probably knew what was best for their relationship. Granted, he would still double check everything he was told to make sure he wasn't being tricked into believing some fallacy, but in general Thranduil took everything Melkor said as proper and perfect sense.

_"Am I forbidden to feel for you?"_ he asked, tilting his head in Melkor's hand to gently kiss his palm. There was a slight smile at his lips, and the question was more a cheeky invitation that knew its boundaries than anything else.

Melkor smiled at that, the cheeky little grin plastered across Thranduil's feature a reminder that his transformation was slow, and that much of the Elvenking's personality, one untouched by darkness, still remained. Thranduil's lips were warm and soft against his hand, and he turned it once again to run his knuckles down the side of his face, to his chest. The question perplexed the Vala somewhat, though he was not surprised.

_"Feel for me? Tell me, Thranduil, what is it that you believe you feel?"_ Melkor moved to a table that materialize before himself, his back now to the King as he took a goblet and filled it. " _Lust? Desire? Freedom? Longing?"_ Each question was asked slowly, his voice echoing in the back of Thranduil's skull as he took a sip from his drink. _"Or is it the power I can make you feel that will have you crawling back to me even when you are sent back to your beloved ones?"_

Thranduil thought for several long moments. " _All of them at once, I suppose."_ he said finally, _"Though I don't think I will be crawling back to anyone_." He did not mean it out of defiance, but simply for his own pride and nature that would allow him to bow to no-one. He was not manipulated into submission easily, and in general was so high and mighty when thinking of himself he only really listened to his feelings. It was why he had thought to lock up Legolas in their palace rather than organise military strategies. Why he took to a bottle of wine rather than active conversation and try to fix his feelings.

Now he gazed at Melkor's back with something like longing. He wished to be held and looked after as he always had - by Oropher or Legolas, usually. But now there was a new offer at play and that was literally anything he could want, except ass-splitting buttsecks with the Dark Lord.

_"What use will you have for me?_ " he asked quietly, wanting to understand their situation or unspoken agreement a bit better.

_"You are an honest one, Thranduil... I respect that."_ Melkor refilled his goblet and turn to face the King, pressing it into the elf's hands _. "And you are curious by nature. Perhaps to a fault._ " The Vala's eyes flickered in the firelight as he gazed upon Thranduil's face, before turning skyward. The ceiling depicted the starlit night, the moon vast and silvery in the distance. Within moments a dark cloud, wispy and foreboding, stretched to shadow a moon that turned to the color of blood before he looked back down at Thranduil.

_"What you will be required to do will become fully clear in time. But I will be sending you back home, my pet, in a very short time."_ The world was starting to crumble, and although Thranduil had no knowledge of it within this place, he would need to show him, in a way that would not cause panic but instead cause a greater respect for Melkor and for his cause. " _I will require you to be my tongue while I continue to gather strength."_ He was quickly gaining power but was not at full strength just yet. This time, he wished to prevail victorious, or at least go down and take as many as possible with him. Soon, it would be time.

_‘A shame I must be your tongue without a better taste of it...’_ he thought privately to himself, before banishing that to the back of his mind. Looking up at the shadowed moon, Thranduil nodded. He took a sip of the wine from the goblet he was handed and turned his gaze to Melkor. If he was to be going home soon, he would have to find out how he would reconnect with Legolas and avoid Liliel if the situation in the forest was still hostile. He had only been gone what, a few days? Well, to Legolas it had been two weeks. And to Middle-Earth, it had been five months.

Timewarping aside, Thranduil asked Melkor if he would have to spread the word of evil or something in the lands of eternal peace where everyone would think him mad. Arda was not on Thranduil's mind and its fate was far from his knowledge.

Melkor's eyes had narrowed at the secret little thought Thranduil had in his mind that he pushed aside quickly. He knew Thranduil was quite used to being in complete control of every situation and the Vala had not allowed an inkling of that during his time here. He had allowed the King to feel a sense of control, but Melkor held the leash tight the entire time, in a manner so subtle it was impossible to distinguish it. He tread lightly as he moved closer to Thranduil, leaning in once more so that he might have a deeper taste. He knew what the other desired and did not wish to use force upon him. If a simple kiss was all he wished for to do his bidding, then Melkor would be a fool not to grant it. But he only allowed him a taste, for holding the rest back would be continued leverage for the Dark Lord.

" _No, my sweet..."_ Melkor guided Thranduil's chin upwards, maintaining a calming, warm embrace upon his mind to help steady him for the images that began to present themselves. Middle Earth was falling to pieces, and all were preparing to battle the creatures of the darkness, Galadriel, and the dead that had risen again. _"The people of Aman are well aware of the darkness that spreads."_

Thranduil tasted victory on his lips for a fleeting moment, before his eyes widened with shock. In his mind he saw vivid, terrible things. Humans dragging themselves bloodied and beaten, some with no arms and others disemboweled with their guts trailing behind like a dog on a leash. Elves dying, running, fearing Galadriel's mad power. Orcs cackling at the bloody massacre all around and killing anything they saw, Dwarves holing up in their mountains and those furthest east in Middle-Earth fearing for their lives.

Thranduil gripped Melkor's sleeve, horrified. His hand holding the goblet was shaky, and he couldn't believe what he saw. Yet a voice in his mind said it was true, and he could not ignore it either. As an elf, such things happening to his natural habitat of Arda was a deeply traumatising experience. Yet he had already lost Mirkwood, all he truly cared for regarding locations in his life. He'd seen Doriath burnt to the ground. The Greenwood grow corrupt (and how it ate at his heart!) and then the entire world begin to fail. He could do nothing to stop it at all. And he felt hopeless.

Melkor could feel Thranduil's fear, sense his horror and helplessness and he could not blame him. He reached out to pull Thranduil close to his body, his hands trailing through his hair. He retrieved the shaking goblet  of wine from the King's hand before it spilled and drained the rest. " _This will come to pass; rather, this is occurring now, Thranduil, but you shall be in my protection. These creatures will not harm you under my stead. There is nothing to fear. It is the coming of a new era. A new Age."_

Melkor pressed his lips to the top of Thranduil's head before allowing the ceiling to turn dark once more. That was enough of that. " _I wish you to stand alongside of me as I take back what is mine. What was stolen from me."_

Thranduil suddenly felt very, very conflicted. He did not want the world to be destroyed, for it was.. or at least, had been a beautiful thing. He still had some attachment to the palace he'd lived his eternal life in, and had no clue how Melkor felt entitled to all that. Alas, Melkor had wanted the world from the moment it was sung into creation by the Ainur. His attempt to shape it to his will had failed, and Arda was ever beautiful despite being somewhat marred.

Now, it all seemed like a rapidly deteriorating wasteland.

Thranduil's good elven conscience protested like nothing else, but the more present part of his mind thought how lovely it was to be comforted by the Dark Lord. So starved in a way was he of affection that he took any of it he could get, especially Melkor's elusive touch. He let the feeling of being safe wash over him, and it melted with the idea that Melkor could protect him from the terrors of Arda. Those words only cemented this belief.

_"What was stolen from you...?"_ he asked quietly, face pressed into Melkor's body and eyes closed. " _Do you seek dominion over all Arda?"_

So much had been stolen from Melkor, the one who was the most wise and powerful of all the Ainur. So few had respected him as he deserved, had feared him as they should have, and many had stifled the creativity that he could have brought to Arda in its creation and sculpting. Too many times had he been wronged, and quickly did he become bitter towards the other Valar. All he had ever wanted, all he felt that he deserved, that was his, was the power to conquer and rule. He would not rest until he was able to finally sculpt Middle Earth the way he had always desired it.

He ran a hand absently through Thranduil's hair, watching as it shone, glittering like the moonlight as it curled over his fingers.

_"It should have been mine from the beginning, young one. But the Valar were foolish and did not see me as the leader that they should have. But I shall make them see this time... **we** shall make them see."_

Thranduil shivered at that, still hesitant on bringing Arda to ruin in his little actions for the Dark Lord. If he was to help Melkor, he would in turn doom his own folk. And so his mind was silent, purposefully shut for the moment.

_"If you say so..."_ floated through his conscience, the voice timid and perhaps a little weary of all the thinking stress. The King wondered just how Legolas would react when he found out - but perhaps he didn't have to. Thranduil could keep secrets. Nobody could lie quite like him.

Well, perhaps Melkor could.

Melkor could hear uncertainty in Thranduil's voice, and that just would not do. He was not as ready as the Vala had hoped to once again face the outside world, though Melkor intended on holding his hand the entire time. Within his mind he would be seated, whispering his will to him, helping to guide him when he knew not what to do. He released Thranduil then and distanced himself. "Tell me, Thranduil..." Melkor spoke aloud now, and his voice was like rolling thunder in a room that seemed to echo forever. He had not used his voice in this place, and the air was going cold. The fire was starting to die.

He set down his goblet as his eyes darkened to a deep black and his face paled as he gazed upon the other. "Do you doubt me?"

Then, within Thranduil's mind: _"You are not as ready as I thought you were."_

Thranduil felt the sudden need to shrink his entire head down into his neck, retreating into himself like a hungover snail. His mind registered the first inklings of dark fear, and the sound of Melkor's voice was a powerful, dominating force in the room.

" _I do not doubt **you**_..." he began, averting his eyes as he felt Melkor glare into his soul " _It is just that perhaps I am not the right person to aid in your plans. I would not see the world destroyed by my assistance... I am an elf, one who cannot bear to see such things...."_ That was, if he could see at all. For all he knew, Melkor could turn him into a potato and that would be that. He was unwilling to become the next Sauron, even though he knew not exactly what Melkor's plans for him entailed.

For one so used to the careful grooming and praise of the Dark Lord, Thranduil found Melkor's almost accusatory words jarring to his conscience. He had been doing so well in his own mind, but his hesitance to send the world into ruin had undone all previous work. A low, unconscious whimper came from the back of his throat like a puppy about to be slaughtered, for he knew he had displeased Melkor with his own reluctance. Yet he was not willing to throw his morals away for the Dark Lord's approval - not yet.

Melkor had no intention to hurt Thranduil. Not yet. Not if he could help it. But Thranduil did not know that. He beckoned Thranduil forward with a single finger, his gaze fixed on the elf before him. _"You brought me from the shadows, Thranduil."_ His lips curved upwards, revealing a devilish smile, and one that could bring a lesser being to their knees. _"I believe Mortals say that 'things happen for a reason'. Perhaps those foolish creatures are right in a way: I believe that your fate brought you to me. And fate, my dear Thranduil, is not something we can always escape."_

The flames in the hearth died completely then, before reappearing anew in Melkor's palm. They were white hot, crackling, and Thranduil could feel the heat if he came closer. _"_ I do not make _wrong_ decisions _."_ He said simply. "But self-doubt can be destructive... more so than my own powers."Slowly, Melkor's eyes faded back to their crimson color, flickering in the flames."Self-doubt is weakness, and I see you as anything but weak, Thranduil. There is something about you, something that is different from other Elves I have seen. I cannot place it. But we have chosen one another."

It was then that Thranduil realised there was no way out. He would either do Melkor's bidding, or be crushed by his own 'weakness'. But now he was nervous, of what might happen if he failed. He was going back to his family soon. And the world was going to end.

Melkor had done so much for him... Taught him to control flames, a skill that could only be honed with practice. Given him his eyesight, that which had been taken by dragonfire itself. And looked after him over these few days, offering anything the King could want. And Thranduil had not been greedy, for Melkor had seen his mind's desires and handed them over before he could think to ask.

Thranduil could at least try to do what he was asked.

He said nothing, but in his mind there was evidence that he was willing to make an attempt at following Melkor's words, as long as the immediate effects did not destroy those closest to him. And he stepped forth as he was beckoned, staying a safe distance from the white flames.

As Thranduil moved close, Melkor lowered his hands and the flames jumped to the floor and made a path to Thranduil, creating a circle about him. The flames rose high around them both like a wall, silent, warm, and bright as a pedestal of ebony metal materialized between them, twisting and warping until it was level with Thranduil's chest. The surface appeared smooth upon first glance, but as Melkor reached a hand in, the dark metal parted and rippled like liquid or a molten metal, and from it he retrieved a necklace, a small red jewel in the shape of a teardrop upon a delicate chain of black steel.

The jewel glowed as bright as fire as Melkor looked upon it, before turning his eyes to Thranduil. From the flames surrounding them were dark whispers in the Black Speech as the warmth they exuded began to cool. He held the necklace before Thranduil. _"I would ask you, Thranduil Oropherion, to be my sight, my tongue, my ears. You were meant for greatness and here is your chance to show your quality to the rest of the world. You will be rewarded beyond measure for this simple task."_

And Thranduil believed what he was told, raising his head in acceptance with a hint of gratefulness for what he was offered. He didn't know if the necklace held any kind of dark magic or would give him power, but he understood it was for him and stepped forth, ready if Melkor chose to place it in his hands or fasten it around his neck. It was beautiful too, something Thranduil would gladly adjust his wardrobe to fit around.

He knew he was meant for greatness. He was of royal blood, had lived as a King, and his family was the literal embodiment of strength. Thranduil spoke to Melkor from within his mind.

_"I shall do this for you."_ said he, willing to be the informative link between Arda and Aman for Melkor. And he did not hesitate this time, for with a vague idea of what he would be doing it was almost certain he would be able to succeed. He wasn't being asked to kill anyone, and that was good enough.

Melkor could sense Thranduil's hesitation and softened his gaze as he looked upon him, caressing him gently through the link he had forged between their minds. No, he would not ask Thranduil to kill anyone for him. If he did so it would be by his own hand and his own choosing. Melkor was perfectly capable of taking care of anyone that got in his way himself. It had been many millennia since had had taken a life of his own.

He moved around the pedestal to stand before Thranduil, the necklace still draped delicately in his fingers. One hand moved to sweep Thranduil's hair from his neck so that he could reach around him to clasp it upon him. The jewel was cool when it hit his skin but immediately warmed like a gentle flame against his bare chest. The gem glittered in the firelight and Melkor reached down to touch it, one hand tilting Thranduil's chin up to meet his gaze. The gem was the color of his own eyes and he smiled gently, almost lovingly at the King.

_"I am grateful for your services, my informant. I have no doubt that you will do your job faithfully and well."_

The gem around Thranduil's neck was Melkor's eye, his ability to see into the outside world for now while he continued to regain his strength. It was no means by which to command the King, for if he desired to it would be through the link in their mind. No, this gem acted like a Palantir might, and allowed Melkor to see a little deeper into the ranks of the elves, to learn to strike when the time was just right.

Thranduil felt the jewel warm as if it were Melkor's own flaming emotional attachment to him - maybe he liked to delude himself, but he really did think that Melkor was growing fond of him. The touches, caresses, the lack of threats... Thranduil smiled back at his Dark Lord. He had no clue that by simply wearing that necklace, he would destroy his own armies from the inside. Later, the guilt would be intense. For now, he was simply accepting of all that went on.

Now, he felt ready. It would take him a few days to get back home but another week had probably passed since he had been in Melkor's dark palace and Thranduil wondered what Legolas and Oropher were doing to cope. Or, they had forgotten about him. He began to let his mind wander...

Melkor leaned back slightly to admire the jewel hanging from Thranduil's neck, his smile soft, his eyes glittering like the very gem itself. He pressed his cold lips to the King's brow. He knew the elf was thinking of his family, concerned of his acceptance into their arms again. But the Vala trusted Thranduil's strength in his resolve. He certainly would not fail him. Thranduil sought to please him after all.

He offered his arm to the King. _"I shall always be here should you wish to call on me, lovely one. Soon, when the time is right, I shall join you in the world of the light. Are you ready?"_

"Yes." Thranduil responded, and took Melkor's arm as if he was a bride to be guided down the isle. But there was no husband where he was going - rather, family and friends - some who hated him, some who loved, some who didn't say or do anything at all. They may be able to sense Melkor's taint upon him but Thranduil didn't care. Folks would pay attention to him now, and he felt like he had one of the Valar on his side. All he needed now was Legolas's unconditional love. Reaffirmed and rekindled.

Melkor led Thranduil down the dark, narrow hall, torches lighting one after another as they moved forward. Before them, a great wall of stone, the one they had passed through a week prior. He muttered something softly and an outline for Thranduil to walk to began to glow. He released the King and ran his fingers down his face. He said nothing, for no words needed to be said. There was a warm embrace in the back of the King's mind, stroking, encouragement, allowing Thranduil to find the power that lie deep within him. His family would be waiting for him.

Thranduil silently passed through and found himself in another world - that of Aman, in all its beauty and splendour. He was on the brighter side of the Pelori mountains, as if he'd been teleported out of the dark lands and Melkor's constructed reality to halfway across the island. He could see the Great Forest in the distance and knew exactly where he could go to find his family. Thranduil hoped he wouldn't have to deal with his wife, though. He'd escaped for long enough.

He walked and walked until he got to the palace, and noted that things were strangely quiet. Most of the wood-elves were watching Arda's fate unfold, wondering what the Valar had in store for the future. Others were with their friends and loved ones. And Thranduil was looking for his father and son, both whom had been up to some things of their own as of late...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I should have cut this one in half lmao but I AM WORKING AS FAST AS I CAN PLS MELLYN HERE IS CHAPTER FOR U~  
> btw this is kinda Oropher's perspective http://www.tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Dagor_Dagorath he thinks that Manwë will defeat his bro Melkor and happy endings for all - though he has not foreseen the outcome of the battle.  
> ~~~~  
> I put a reference to one of Bilbo's lines from The Hobbit AUJ in this chapter HEEHEE  
> ~~~~  
>  Thrandy has been gone three weeks in Aman (few days w/Melkor) and in the third week, Legolas and Oropher strengthened their relationship. o fuk spoiler lel  
> ~~~~  
> somewhere i have a diagram of Melkor's room if you wanna have a looksee  
> ~~~~~  
> Also. The thing Melkor said about basically 'when we fuck, if we do, you gon be prepared to take consequence'. remember that. In the Fifth Arc it will be IMPORTANT.  
> ......  
> ...  
> .  
> ;_; #croi


	21. 4-10 : MOAR Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks, Thranduil is gone. Even though it seems like days to him, his son finds time crawling torturously slow.  
> Oropher is used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Feb 5 to Feb 8. I split this one chapter into two for your viewing pleasure ^u^ I know it is hard to focus on thousands of words at a time, worldbuilding and emotional states combined. You, reader, are precious. Rest your eyes.

Hours had turned to days, and days into weeks in Aman as Legolas had remained waiting for a sign, signal, or anything from Thranduil. Shreds of a connection remained in his mind and the dull pain he felt had never subsided. He had spent a week searching for Thranduil, more frantically than before once he had learnt of Arda's fate. Without his father, his anchor, Legolas felt utterly lost and between moments of fear and anxiety, there was resentment and a hurt that was woven into the fibers of his being knowing the King had abandoned him when things started to go to hell. Now that they literally were, the need to locate Thranduil became strong, but none had seen him. It was as though he had literally disappeared off the face of Aman.

There had been countless sleepless nights, and when he tossed in bed he was restless, his mind racing. It had begun as a display of affection, something that Oropher did not seem to keen on to start, for Legolas desperately needed comfort in his father's stead, and then blossomed into something that was confusing and spurred from the depths of his broken heart. He did not know how things had begun exactly, but he had found comfort in Oropher, with their mutual desire and worry to see Thranduil safe again fueling the fire.

Legolas stood now, a glass of wine in hand as his gaze moved over the forest below. He stood each day to watch for Thranduil, a foolish part of him hoping that he would return and things would be as they had once been. His fingertip traced the rim of his glass nervously. The sounds of birds could not even be heard in the canopies, and there was an eerie silence that spread throughout the Great Forest, to the point that Legolas could hear the firm beat of his own heart as it fluttered in his chest.

Something felt different. Something was not right. He could feel it.

Oropher stood around the corner, enjoying the silence though it was a dreadful, foreboding thing. His emerald gaze drifted from the swirling branches stretching across the wall and curling out to the balcony where Legolas stood, a place where one could observe most of the forest from. The King knew his grandson was thinking of Thranduil.

"He will return soon." said Oropher quietly, having worked very hard to develop an 'inside voice' where there previously had been none. He needed something between _silence_ and _commander_ _mode_ \- but forming any sort of grey area was incredibly difficult for him. "Your father is yet alive, and will come from the sunset this week." He spoke with a self-assurance born of the Sight; having seen his son's face in dreams and while awake the previous night. His hands were folded behind his back and he strode towards Legolas, tall black boots clicking against the wooden floor. His balconies had no railings and as such he could not lean on anything, instead opting to stand in his usual stiff manner and look out over his forest. He was some seven feet tall as the elves born before the first age were, and looked quite intimidating beside his grandson. But his manner now was weary and in his heart he bore concern. For his mind was troubled, and so was the world.

For a moment, Legolas wondered, as he stood upon the railing-less balcony overlooking the forest, the leaves still blessedly alive and green, wine glass in hand, if this had been his father for the thirteen months since his son departed for the Fellowship. It was a lonely, desolate feeling, but he recalled clearly that he had not broken their link. There was something so reminiscent about these moments as blue eyes scanned the horizon for any sign, but something so very different that he could not place.

He listened as Oropher moved to stand at his side. His voice, far more quiet than usual, was comforting and drowned out the nervous pounding of his own heart. He took a sip from his glass. Legolas looked up at Oropher, smiling slightly, the faintest hint of a smile, at least. It had been weeks since he had last smiled, and this particular movement of his lips felt strange, almost foreign. As soon as the smile had appeared it was gone, and Legolas' face became stoic again. He was glad to know that Thranduil would return soon. "Things shall be different. I feel it but I cannot place what it is."

He reached out then, out of instinct to touch Oropher's arm, moving to stand close to him. "I am... grateful..." Legolas said softly, turning his gaze outwards once again. "That you have been here with me, Daeradar. I miss him..." It was the first time Legolas had admitted it out loud, for it had felt so much better to keep it buried within himself. Hiding his feelings had made him strong, or at least, in his own eyes. "He is all that truly matters in this world to me."

Oropher felt Legolas's touch very lightly and watched him from the corner of his eye. His expression did not change, but the angle of his head tilted a few degrees to the side and a long sweep of snowy white hair sighed across his shoulder.

"He loves you too..." said the King with a reflective but unfeeling tone "More than anything. More than life.”

_'More than me.'_

Thranduil was all Oropher had. And now he lived his own life, dabbling in dark magic and straining familial relationships. Legolas and Thranduil were very clearly in love, for Oropher had read it in their eyes every time they looked at each other. And it did not bother him so much as it should have - what he was concerned with more was what he was going to do, how he would remain strong when his illusion of support had begun to crumble. He could tell himself he didn't need support, that he only needed himself and his fists to get where he wanted in life. But when he saw bonded ellyn and ellith together in his forest, scattered about Aman, in each other's arms and with glowing happiness around them... A horribly desolate feeling rose within him and it was something he could not ignore. Something he had not felt since his wife had gone.

He broke himself out of his feelsy reverie by force - Oropher could get very lost in his own mind to the point where only a kick in the head would wake him. His eye was still on Legolas and deep within he chastised himself for feeling. He wasn't supposed to. He hated it. So he distracted himself with thoughts of his grandson. Legolas, who missed Thranduil, eagerly awaited his return.

"You know I shall be here for you, should you ever need me." he murmured quietly, his low voice blending words a little as he straightened himself up properly.

Oropher's rather... impersonal expression of his feelings did not bother Legolas. It was nice to know that he had his grandfather's support. He was here when Thranduil was not, and there had been more than one time during the last several weeks that Legolas wondered if the King even felt anything at all for him anymore. There had been no attempts at any sort of communication, though, in all fairness, he had done the same while he was assisting the Fellowship. But that had been a disagreement of ideas and Thranduil wishing to protect his only son from the horrors of the world. Legolas still could not comprehend why the King had run off and did not come back.

"Thank you, Daeradar..." Legolas said softly, his fingers finding Oropher's hand, pulling it gently towards himself so he could twine his fingers through the other's . His gaze remained straight ahead as he sipped on his wine, and waited, as he had done so many hours of each day these past few weeks.

He raised an eyebrow as his gaze drifted upwards again at Oropher's passive face, practically unreadable. It was like looking at a statue. The Oropher he had known had always been incredibly stoic. "You know you are not alone in all of this, I hope."

Oropher felt Legolas's slender fingers twine with his own thick ones, and found an odd sort of closeness in the way they stood together. He remained still, eyes unblinking and dark.

"I am always alone, Legolas..." he sighed, unwilling to look into his grandson's eyes. Oropher knew he was being watched, and though it didn't make him uncomfortable he knew Legolas could be rather perceptive and it worried him. Self-confidence in his own unreadability was a thing he hadn't felt for a while - just like all the emotions surging from depths he hadn't known existed.

There was nothing else he found he could say on the matter, for it hurt to have any emotion at all rise to the surface when he thought who could possibly be there for him. Legolas cared for his father only, Thranduil did whatever he wanted, nobody expected Oropher to have needs in his heart at all. Neither did he.

He closed his eyes and allowed his face to relax, though it still looked just as tense with lips tightly drawn together and dark brows furrowed. Oropher didn't even know how to relax. But if he pretended, maybe Legolas would not see through the ancient King's crumbling stone walls.

But Oropher was right. Legolas was incredibly perceptive and attuned to the emotion's of others. Sometimes he could feel another's pain as if it were his own. He felt something in Oropher as he held his hand, though it was difficult to read. He watched his fair face remain cold and tensed and almost had to laugh at the attempt he made to "relax" his muscles. He gave his hand a firm squeeze.

To be honest, Legolas had never seen Oropher as an elf like he did Thranduil. There was something about him, something akin to a stone wall or a boulder. Grounded, cold, and difficult to scale. Thranduil always had a knack for expressing himself, as did Legolas. It seemed strange for the ability to display emotion in a way Legolas was most used to seeing to be lacking in the ancient Elf. But Oropher had seen far more than Legolas may ever see, and he had watched how events had changed Thranduil. Perhaps things had happened that changed Oropher from the elf he once was.

"You are not alone." Legolas finished his wine and moved to stand before Oropher, having to crane his neck upwards to look him in the eye. "Not anymore."

Oropher looked down at Legolas, who now stood before him. And their eyes made contact, like the reflection of blue sky in a deep turquoise pool. His mind took a few moments (for he was not very adept at reading fine lines in conversation) and offered the suggestion that Legolas wished to offer him some sort of companionship or comfort in these hard times. But another voice, that of his inner defence, told him Legolas would attach himself to Thranduil the moment he returned and Oropher would be just as alone as he always had been - inside.

"In a literal sense, I am not alone." he said carefully, moving to smooth back Legolas's soft blonde hair and thought how much it felt like Thranduil's when he was that age. "You are present before me, and I appreciate your being here." Oropher spoke as if he were explaining a military situation to his soldiers, tone even and factual with absolutely no emotional connection to be seen. He was hiding it, beating down the thought that Legolas could reach out to him and Oropher would grab his hand.

Legolas sighed inwardly. Oropher's social skills were certainly rusty, but the Prince could not blame him. He had been alone for countless millennia without saying a word. That he was here at all with him while Legolas pined for Thranduil, wanting and waiting, meant the world to him. Any small gesture meant absolutely everything. In Oropher, Legolas could see a hint of his father hidden behind the walls that had been built, crumbled, and rebuilt once again, stronger than before.

He laughed, though, his voice soft and musical, at Oropher's description, as though defining and restating what Legolas had just said. "In a literal sense, yes. But I meant it in a deeper way than that." Legolas smiled, reaching up to Oropher's face and pressing his thumbs against the corners of his mouth, gently pushing it up into a sort of smile. "You are loved, Daeradar. By myself as much as your son. We are family, and nothing breaks those ties that bind."

Oropher's mind froze at the feeling of Legolas touching his face. Nobody had done that since Thranduil in the Second Age, and looking down the King could see a remnant of his son in Legolas's fair face. The corners of his mouth twitched hesitantly, and he derped for a moment as he let Legolas see what was an attempt at a smile. Oropher could only pull a sadistic smirk or creepy grin - he hadn't practiced smiling ever before in his life. Muscles that hadn't been used since dragons roamed Beleriand were heating up at the prospect of exercise, and Oropher found his pale face blushing from cheeks to ear tips.

"You speak the truth..." he muttered, trying very hard not to bite Legolas's fingers off (their family had done enough of that for one lifetime) "But know not the extent of the things I..." A long pause stretched between them as Oropher searched for the right word, cursing his lack of expressive vocabulary in situations such as this. "...require." he finished, steely gaze firmly locked on Legolas. His hand that had been in the prince's hair moved to rest on his shoulder, a little heavy but comforting all the same.

Legolas just grinned, trying to move his own mouth in a way to show Oropher how to smile, since clearly he needed some assistance. He pushed one cheek up and then the other, mirroring it on his own face like one might teach a child how to recognize a facial expression and mimic it. He released it after a moment, having stood on his tip toes to get better leverage, and sank back down to the ground, trying not to cringe at Oropher's attempt. It was decent, if not a little terrifying. He smiled slightly. "It will take some work, but that's a fine start."

His hands moved to rest atop the broad expanse of his chest. Oropher's hand upon his shoulder was heavy, and Legolas could not tell if the King was trying to push him away and keep him from touching his face like that. He raised an elegant brow curiously as he met the steely gaze without hesitation, holding it firmly. Thranduil's gaze could also be intense, even intimidating at times. Oropher did not frighten him, even if he should in a way. "If I do not know what you... require..." Legolas said slowly, trying to figure out where Oropher was going with this. "Then will you do me the honor of enlightening me?" Even though they were family, and the House of Oropher was close, he really did not know the ancient King as he felt he should, for he passed out of Legolas' life while he was so young, and Thranduil had been his entire world.

"It is an inappropriate venture for us both..." said Oropher with a slow, deliberate caress of his thumb to the side of Legolas's neck. His touch ventured just below the Prince's ear and felt the warmth of his skin combined with the softness of his hair. However, it was so incredibly gentle one would not expect it to come from a hand that held power and strength greater than armies combined.

He held their eye contact even though he wanted to glance down at the hands pressed against his chest. Though light, he could feel them and was very aware of just how close they were.

"If you consider it an honour to learn of what I require... or perhaps, desire would be a better word." Oropher pressed his lips together and his eyes flicked to the side for just a second before returning to Legolas. He tilted his head to the side and his usually uncommunicative eyebrows raised in attempts to convey the expression of _"Do you see where I'm going with this?"_

Oropher then looked down, almost as if embarrassed. Now his face said " _Please don't ask for more details."_ as he felt grossly inadequate in the social department. He was absolutely horrid at explaining how he felt, because he had convinced himself he couldn't, shouldn't and wouldn't feel at all.

Legolas swallowed a lump he hadn't realized was forming in his throat. They were close, and Legolas had not shared this sort of closeness with another in weeks. His body could feel it and longed for his other half. He held Oropher's gaze, though his eyelids became slightly heavier and fluttered the slightest bit as Oropher's thumb found his neck, resting just below his ear on a particularly sensitive piece of flesh. If Oropher pressed just a bit harder Legolas was certain the other elf would feel his heart pounding, the blood pulsing through his veins.

 

But his own face was school carefully, revealing nothing. His blue gaze said all, as did the subtle change of his breath, his heartbeat, and the way his pale cheeks flushed the slightest bit.

" _Desire_?" Legolas repeated, his voice soft and thick. Yes, it certainly would be an inappropriate venture for them both, and one that could cause a variety of issues. But it was comfort Legolas sought, and closeness. He could see the pain and solitude in Oropher's gaze, behind the thick walls he built. An elf like him did not deserve to live this life alone and gain nothing in return. One hand moved from Oropher's chest to rest lightly upon the hand on his neck. He could see Oropher getting uncomfortable in trying to explain what it was he was trying to get across, and Legolas did not push. Had it been Thranduil, he would have found a way to force the ways out of the King. But Thranduil had always been so beautifully eloquent in his desires.

Legolas leaned into Oropher's touch, his thumb moving gently over his hand as he gazed up at the other elf. He said nothing however, and watched him for a long moment. "Inappropriate, perhaps, but neither of us are so undeserving of the comfort of another."

"You will have your father soon, and our kind will go to war." said Oropher in a matter-of-fact way. "Do not trouble yourself with my needs." The King did his very best to prevent saying or doing the wrong thing - this type of closeness was confronting and strange, something that did not cause anger he could react to or joy he could hide. He had no clue what this was. But he knew that he would be much more comfortable if he was alone, with his mind. Ah, he could not block out Legolas now, not when the elf was trying to reach out and offer him a piece of himself. Was that what he was doing? Oropher didn't know. But he found the shade of Legolas's eyes interesting, the slight colour on his cheeks and sound of changed breath.

Very carefully he drew his thumb up along the ridge of Legolas's ear, his gaze burning and intense as it observed every reaction. Normally bold but uncharacteristically shy now, he dared to shift just a little bit closer.

Oropher thought about deserving comfort. Legolas did not have a single idea about all the horrid things Oropher had done - the men he'd tortured, the elves he'd terrified, the dwarves and orcs he'd mercilessly slaughtered. He _was not deserving_ , he thought, _of love, of forgiveness, of anything at all._ His wife had left, his people had died, he himself had ended his life from arrogance and confidence on a battlefield where there should be none. It was all his fault, he told himself. And he was broken within, a fractured and confused soul who was barely given another chance at life.

Still, Oropher wanted.

Legolas was waiting for a reprimand, for he had seen the way he tried to tear Liliel apart after Thranduil had left. He was overly protective of his family and of himself. The most affection he had ever seen the ancient King show had been when he laid eyes upon Thranduil for the first time in several millennia. The Prince had not meant to be threatening, even though this was certainly unexplored territory and likely something he would be better off not dabbling in. But he cared for Oropher, of course, for they were family, and anyone who loved Thranduil nearly as much as Legolas was welcome in the Prince's heart.

The closeness with which Oropher observed him was curious in a veiled way, cool, and calculating. It was as though he was under intense, scrutinizing observation like a strange species of animal in a cage. There was something unnerving about it, but it was a thing that also excited something deep within Legolas. His gaze remained unwavering, for he felt as though he were being sized up in a way, and when he was touched, it was as though Oropher was trying to see if their bodies functioned the same way, if it had been so many years that he had forgotten one of an elf's most erogenous zones. Regardless, he found it, and Legolas had to bite his lower lip to stifle a moan that rose in his throat. Finally, despite himself, his eyes squeezed shut as a jolt of electricity seemed to move from the place Oropher touched to his toes. His cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, and when his eyes fluttered open again they were another color entirely, as though a switch had been flipped. They were as dark and deep as the ocean. The hand that had rested on Oropher's chest tightened slightly in his robes.

"Perhaps not..." Legolas responded, slightly breathless, a very delayed response to his grandfather's earlier statement. "But if you trouble yourself with mine perhaps you shall sate some of your own."

"You are no trouble at all.." said Oropher evenly, unable to tear himself from the darkness of Legolas's gaze. He could sense something building within the Prince and found no tactful way to respond to it - his thumb moved from Legolas's ear to his jaw, then swiped across his chin. There he tilted Legolas's head from side to side and continued his observations, seeing how alike they were as members of shared blood. Legolas had a softer face than Oropher but still the masculine jawline of his forebears, and a fierce passion within that could ignite and not easily be quenched. Where Oropher had anger and Thranduil stubbornness, Legolas had something of his very own Oropher did not know well enough to deliberate upon. But they were, as all elves, with the spirit of both human and animal, wise and wild at once. He could see what Legolas wanted. He had felt it for some time. And in this regard, they were not so different after all.

"What do you desire?" he whispered, bending to whisper into Legolas's ear in his deep, rumbling voice. His flicker of shyness had vanished and his curiosity had awoken, that which had lain dormant for some three thousand years. He had not been curious about anything since the last time he had seen Gil-Galad and puzzled over the Noldo who'd become the center of his world. And now a feeling rose within - very distant arousal, though he could not recognise it. It had been so very long.

Legolas' breath caught in his throat only for a brief moment as Oropher's fingertips moved from his ear, across his jaw, and to his chin. He could feel the strength in his hand, and there was no exploration with the King's movements, for they were carefully calculated and deliberate, but it did not matter to Legolas. Oropher's hand was cool on his own overly hot flesh, and the wine that the Prince had just downed warmed him from the pit of his stomach to his extremities. If he had no wine Legolas was certain that he would be trembling like a leaf under Oropher's scrutiny. The elder elf's face was unreadable, and that was somewhat terrifying as Legolas had always been an incredibly expressive elf.

When Oropher leaned in close suddenly, closing the distance between him to whisper in his ear, Legolas felt his core shaken by a voice that was dark and deep and could move mountains. He wondered if all of Aman could hear him now, for his voice seemed to reverberate off of Legolas' body and through the tree in which Oropher's home was built. Legolas' hands moved to touch Oropher's hair, thick and long like a woven silver blanket, as his fingertips found the curve of the other elf's ear, moving from lobe to tip as he leaned back slightly to meet his gaze. They lingered at the tip as his lips curved into an almost devilish smile. His own voice had become throaty as the heat in his body had escalated quite a bit in the last few moments. "You. At this very moment, I desire _you_."

Oropher's eyes tightened as he felt the touch by his ear and a short breath came from his nose, even and cool. His ears were truly the only part of him that could be touched lightly and have feeling - everything else was either desensitised or highly resistant to any feel at all.  Oddly enough, as his desire was sparked further there were no telltale signs in his eyes of what kind of specific interaction he required. No hungry, possessive gaze and definitely no fear. Oropher was neutral at this moment for he knew not how to act in such a sexually charged situation. However he knew he did not want to hurt Legolas, much less dominate him. And so he was gentle, increasingly so as he leaned further with head tilted to the side and pressed a soft kiss to the shell of Legolas's ear.

"Then I shall not deny you..." he murmured, getting better at the 'inside voice' with every passing moment. His kisses turned into little absent nibbles here and there, but remained by Legolas's ear and neck as if Oropher was starting to explore unknown territory and couldn't have Legolas look at him just yet.

It had been far too long for Legolas, much like Thranduil, was a highly sexual being by nature. This sort of intimacy was a way of getting closer, of pulling down walls, of receiving affirmation and even a means of release. It was not until recently however, when things had become too much, that Legolas had even thought about his own needs and desires. But he had spent more time with Oropher as of late, oftentimes in silence, and Legolas was drawn to him. He could see Thranduil within him the more he had looked at him, though they were still so very different. And because he could see his father, the dying flame inside of him had been reignited. Oropher was an enigma, heavily veiled, and naturally Legolas was drawn to him, the strong and silent type that was like, yet so unlike himself.

The response he had drawn from Oropher was subtle, but no less delightful and Legolas smiled to himself, shivering slightly as the other elf teased his ear and neck while one hand tightened slightly in his hair, the other pinching the very tip of the delicate point of Oropher's ear. Legolas' eyes fell shut and he pressed his body against the expanse of Oropher's as his breath quickened.

"No one ever can..." He murmured cheekily, leaning in and turning his head slightly to nip at Oropher's earlobe. There had been a time when Legolas got Thranduil off by stroking his ears alone, and knew he himself could come undone just as easy. Oropher, he assumed, would prove to be quite a challenge, stoic and placid as he was.

Oropher could not help but sigh at the affections lavished upon his ears, having not known they were this sensitive until someone actually touched them. He allowed himself to feel what Legolas offered, pressing just a tad more firmly with his lips moving lower until he could dip his nose in the softness behind Legolas's collarbone. Silently he inhaled, familiarising himself with the scent of Legolas in the moment of his arousal. He wanted to explore, to taste, to know his pretty princeling in ways only Thranduil had. And he felt it was not his right to do so, but rather a favour for both of them who had gone without indulgence for so long. Legolas's weeks without Thranduil must have seemed like an eternity, just as Oropher's lack of knowledge on the subject made him feel an absolute idiot in the romance department.

Oropher wrapped his arms around Legolas. His grip slowly tightened, warmth coming from his body as it naturally generated a lot of heat. For as hot-blooded as he was, he certainly knew how to be cold and standoffish. Now was not the time for that - he was open and willing to share affection with his grandson in whatever way was needed. However, Oropher often lost himself when warmth and closeness were involved, rarely allowing anyone into the place where he kept his feels close. Oh, and he had plenty of those. He just liked to appear otherwise. Now that there was no space between their bodies, they had gotten a lot more intimate and there was definitely no going back.

"Do you... wish to take this somewhere more private?" he growled into Legolas's neck, nudging him with his nose for an answer.

In addition, Legolas was naturally an exhibitionist at heart, but there was no need to scare Oropher off so quickly. He hated the idea of taking the time to move from where they stood, his hands tangled in hair and clothed and another practically attached to Oropher's ear as warm lips, almost too hot to the touch, trailed down his neck to his collarbone. Oropher's breath was steady and warm as it ghosted over his skin and his grip tightened around the other elf as strong arms slowly tightened their grip around his body.

The soft growl against his neck elicited a breathless moan from Legolas's lips as his fingertips moved from Oropher's ear to caress his cheekbone as he pressed his hips against the taller elf. "Your chambers..." He gasped softly as his hands moved to Oropher's, fingers twining as he tugged him gently towards them. "If we must move from here, there is where I wish to go."

Oropher's eyes slid shut for just a moment at the touch moving from his ear to his sharp cheekbone. And then he ducked down, scooping up Legolas into his arms and holding him close. That was his silent agreement that he consented to things getting intense, and he began to walk in the direction of his chambers with silent footsteps and steady breaths.

He could feel his cheeks blushing and forced himself to remain straight-faced, striding through the winding halls and up to the one place Legolas probably hadn't explored in his weeks here. Oropher's chambers were dark and secure, in a hollow section of the largest tree with a bit of sunlight filtering through the carved skylight on the ceiling. It was a place where one could find absolute solitude and privacy, two things Oropher found of great value. He gently set Legolas down on the dark green silk sheets of his bed, the same colour as his royal robes he wore every day. Silver leaves patterned the fabric and swirled to the floor, which also had shimmering imprints of various natural-looking images. It was like standing amongst leaves that one could not feel, yet gaze upon and wonder.

Oropher began planning his next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((#whorelas #butterupthatbaguetteLeggybecausewearegoingforaridemaybe #earsex?)) I s2g my partner posted that and I nearly kekked myself into orbit. Ahem.  
> Yes, Legopher is a thing. It was requested and I like to please, so found a way to work this in. Oropher is very socially awkward and somewhat first-timey when doing this sort of thing - remember, he's not had any action for literal thousands of years. He wasn't even good at this shit in the beginning to start off with.  
> Ah, what am I rambling here for! You've read the chapter. Look into it however you please. But if there are motivations / actions you don't understand, don't hesitate to ask! Everything here is neatly planned out from neural pathways to mutual turn-ons. Maximum sense must be made.
> 
> Then again...
> 
> (( ah yes the Sindar elves, seen in their natural habitat fucking each other into the side of a tree. Lmao they're so sexual it's JESUS ))


	22. 4-10.5 : MOAR Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHA OOPS 12k SMUT AHEAD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Feb 8 to Feb 11.  
> Estimated read time : 48 minutes. 1/7 of the sentences here are wordy and there are 231 adverbs lemao get rekt

Oropher's chambers were dark and comforting, and the construction of this particular part of the tree seemed perfectly suited to his disposition. The sheets of his bed were dark and beautifully constructed, and for a moment Legolas was reminded of a home that seemed so far away, so distant. He ran his fingertips over the silver threading, watching as it glittered in the sunlight that was streaming in, or rather, what bit was allowed to, anyways. The sun was beginning to set and the orange light turned the silver threading into a brilliant gold. His hands moved then, to his robes, which he shrugged off and a tunic he was deftly beginning to undo. Soon, his chest was bare, his silken garments pooling on the floor beside the bed.

His skin was brilliantly pale, flawless and unmarked. It was so strange that it carried virtually no markings at all, though it only made sense for he had not been in Thranduil's presence for weeks. Each time he was taken to bed Legolas had always demanded some sort of visual reminder of their last coupling, whether it be a small mark on his neck, his chest, or wherever Thranduil wished to give one. He moved to reach for Oropher, his eyes darker as the sun started to set, his fingers beckoning him over. "This shall be more enjoyable for us both if you join me..." Legolas purred, smirking. He raised his eyebrow then, his next words teasing.

"Or you can remain standing at the foot of the bed the rest of the evening while I just have my way with myself."

"As much as I would enjoy watching you.." Oropher began, circling the bed with his eyes reflecting deep thought "I do think it is imperative we trouble each other with these... desires. Like so." He shoved the rippling dark silk from his right shoulder and in a single swift movement pulled his outer robe off. It dropped to the floor and was soon joined by the cross hatched pattern of the silver he wore underneath, similar to Thranduil's royal garments but with a pattern like ancient armour. And in that moment Oropher's body was revealed to Legolas.

His skin was as white as snow, marked by several scars stretching all over his body. Pale pink and red were the slashes that ran over his chest and around his back, wounds that had healed but did not fade. Nothing on Oropher's body ever faded. It was the way he lived. In memory, pain, and whatever else may come.

Slowly he made his way closer to Legolas, sitting on the edge of the bed then moving to lay beside him.

"What is it you wish for us to do?" he asked quietly, observing Legolas in all his flawless beauty and wondering just how he had managed to go so long without finding a mate. Ah, but he had. And Thranduil wasn't about to lose Legolas to anyone soon. Legolas watched Oropher reveal himself with hungry eyes. His body was bared in a dramatic fashion and it made Legolas' heart race. There was no excruciatingly slow and arousing reveal, but it did not matter. His own body did not wish to take it slowly. It had been far too long and he craved someone in his arms and to taste sweetness on his lips, to feel the burn of passion and desire as he took and dealt pleasure. His eyes moved immediately to the scars that stretched over his body. He had seen scars before, of course, but somehow they were always so surprising to see on Elvish flesh. He had seen Aragorn's body, and it was riddled with them, but something about seeing it on Oropher's pale flesh, an elf so powerful, eternal, and with a memory that stretched the length of his time on Arda and in Aman, awoke something deep within the Prince that he could not place.

When Oropher lay beside him, Legolas' fingers moved to the scars as his eyes followed them, tracing the upraised and rough lines on impossibly smooth flesh. They were strange and beautiful, filled with pain, and memory, and sadness, and Legolas wanted to know the stories behind each one. It was more than likely that Oropher would not divulge and for now, Legolas did not wish to push. Tonight was not to be an exploration of the mind, but of the pleasures of the flesh.

He leaned in to press his lips to a deep red scar, the ends of his golden hair brushing along Oropher's flesh as he looked up  at him, eyes alight. "I think you and I both know." Legolas said simply, and his hands moved across the pale expanse of his chest before his fingers moved to caress his mouth, thumb running over his lower lip. "But many have considered me a great orator." His grin widened and he laughed softly. "I could describe this in detail if you would like. Or I could show you, King of Few Words."

"Show me.." whispered Oropher, barely feeling the kisses to his scarred flesh. Time had dulled his senses, for Oropher had not felt the touch of another on his bare skin in eight thousand years. Granted, Thranduil used to kiss him on the cheek and stroke little fingers through his long white hair, but the rest of Oropher's body had lost most of its feeling. One would have to apply a bit of pressure to get him sensing anything at all.

"You can be as rough with me as you like..." he murmured, "Take what you will, I do not mind..." His head dipped down to nip at Legolas's finger, and his hands found themselves feeling all over the Prince's back. They were still soft and tentative, exploring and perhaps groping as they went lower, fingers pressing to the softness of Legolas's buttocks. Oropher could feel lean muscle here and there, and knew Legolas would have enough energy to last for both of them. He absentmindedly found his palm rubbing slow, sensual circles over and in to Legolas's thighs, cupping just beneath his ass and feeling what he could.

Legolas was so used to being gentle with Thranduil, who could be incredibly sensitive, that he did not think that Oropher would even consider finding pleasure in a bit of roughness. Perhaps Legolas had taken more after his grandfather for he often craved a little bit of firmer handling, of sharp nips occasionally and hard thrusts of hips, of marks that bloomed upon his flesh from a hungry mouth or marks that blossomed on his hips from a grip that was just a little too tight. It made Legolas feel alive and he yearned for that feeling. "And you can be as rough as you wish..." He gasped as Oropher's hands explored him, moving to rest upon his buttocks as he squeezed, kneaded, and mapped out the planes of his body. His leggings already felt overly tight and his mouth moved along Oropher's throat, the pressure of his lips, teeth, and tongue working to ensure the King felt something, even so much as an inkling, though of course he wished him to feel what Legolas felt now, and that was an overwhelming desire that was palpable.

His nailed moved along the flesh of Oropher's chest before cupping his cheeks and pulling his face up to meet Legolas'. He initiated the kiss first, and the soft yet firm, asking yet hungry way his tongue swept over Oropher's lips demanded entrance as Legolas sought to claim a mouth that had not been claimed in many millennia. His own mouth tasted of wine and honey, and he only pulled back when he had to catch his breath. He pressed a hand upon Oropher's chest again and shoved him into the bed as he climbed atop his lap, grinning down at the other elf.

"I can handle it. I am not the delicate flower you may think."

\"Neither of us is particularly delicate..." said Oropher as he ran his hands up over Legolas's chest and pressed both thumbs to his nipples "But I will do my very best to not hurt you. I have killed a man with my cock. I do not want to break you." He spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as easily as a warrior would discuss his latest tactics with friends. Oropher was very controlled however, and thought carefully about what he could do. The taste of Legolas still lingered on his parted lips and he breathed a heavy sigh as he looked up. By the Valar, he had never considered his grandson to be such a desirable figure before. Legolas was an angel in Oropher's eyes compared to the wild and unpredictable Thranduil - oh, but he would soon learn. Nothing in his family was really ever as it seemed.

His skin tingled from the previous nips and kisses, nails and pressure leaving his nerves stretching for more. He arched his back up and through nothing but the muscles in his abdomen he sat, with Legolas in his lap and both hands all over him. Oropher stole a kiss for himself, gentle as usual but with the slight drag of teeth upon Legolas's lower lip. And he closed his eyes, enjoying this taste he was sure he would never taste again. Tonight they belonged to each other. What mattered more than that now?

It took a moment for Legolas to truly process what Oropher had said, for he said it so casually that the Prince had not truly taken it to heart or as a warning. But when it did sink in, Legolas' curiosity was naturally piqued, for bedroom antics had never struck fear into him before. He had the appearance of an angel, yes, but the mind and fire of something very much the opposite. He could see the wheels turning in Oropher's mind as their lips met again for a kiss. Every movement was carefully controlled and calculated like a warrior might strategize for battle, but Legolas led with his heart and his body and threw himself at Oropher with reckless abandonment. The contrast between them was stark and beautiful, and would certainly lead to an interesting evening, to say the least. And really, Legolas had know idea at this point.

"I am not so easily broken." Oropher's fingers upon his nipples shot straight to his groin and he gripped the King's wrists tightly to steady himself as his eyelids fluttered and his cheeks flushed a darker shade. He pressed Oropher's hands downwards, to rest upon his hips as his mouth moved to the other's ear once again, biting the tip none too gently as he rocked his hips against Oropher's abdomen. His breath was hot and damp against Oropher's ear. "Do not think of me as your grandson tonight. Use me as you will. My only desire is that you get as much pleasure out of this as I shall."

Oropher moaned very, very softly at the sharp bite to the tip of his ear, arousal shooting through his body and met with a grind of Legolas's hips to his crotch.

"Yes.." he whispered, barely catching himself before he pleaded for more. Oh, he hoped Legolas was as tough as he sounded. But it would not matter much, for the King did not intend to fuck him tonight. Rather, he would have Legolas take him from behind as rough as possible and end up in an unconscious heap afterwards.

His hands were down by Legolas's hips and immediately, one dipped down into those tight leggings to feel immense heat in his grasp. Oropher lost himself in impatience for a moment and ripped the leggings down, the second pair that month Legolas had lost due to sexual shenanigans. No matter, they were easily enough produced. The fabric bits were cast away and Oropher fondled Legolas's balls with one hand, large enough to hold everything securely. His other stroked lightly, much lighter than the aggressive manner in which he would touch himself. He hadn't done that for millennia. Tonight would seem like a first.

Legolas paid no care to the shreds of leggings that were cast aside to fall into the heap of clothing at the foot of the bed. There would be no reason to run, no reason to wear any clothing at all the rest of the night, the rest of the week if he did not care to. Here, in the walls of Oropher's house, safety and solace was offered to him. And he intended on taking full advantage. His hands moved to Oropher's broad shoulders to brace himself, to ground himself as he was quickly losing the little control he already had to start this session with. Fingernails dug deeply into pale flesh as Legolas bit his lower lip hard. Despite himself, a deep, guttural sound was produced from the core of his being as Oropher took him into his hands, stroking, cupping, squeezing. His body was on fire and the skillful motions brought him closer and closer. If he did not get a hold of himself he would lose it right then and there.

It had been several weeks but had felt like an eternity to Legolas. Every inch of his flesh was overly sensitive, his nerve endings aflame. "Saes..." He begged, but for what, it didn't matter. All he desired was Oropher's touch, shared pleasures and a night of possession and twisting bodies arching and aching with passion. His tongue soothed the light teeth marks he left upon Oropher's ear as he buried his face into the other's neck, his breath coming heavier now, shallow and swift as his chest rose and fell. He shoved his hips towards Oropher's hands, his nails digging deeper.

"Saes..." Anything, everything. Legolas wanted all of it, and he intended on getting his way.

"Mān saes?" Oropher growled, asking or rather demanding " _Please what?"_ from Legolas as he truly had no clue what Legolas wanted. Bringing another to climax was an unopened book in Oropher's dusty mental library - as such he touched Legolas a little more to see what reactions he got. But one thing he hadn't counted on was just how hard Legolas's fingers gripped him, nails digging deep into his back, hard enough to draw blood. Oropher's skin was usually quite thick and couldn't be easily broken but his whole body was tense and blood rushed through his veins with excitement and arousal all at once. He felt the familiar sting of what should have been pain, but now felt like pure, dripping pleasure.

"Ohhhhhhh...." he groaned, hand squeezing Legolas's shaft in natural response to what he felt. His other hand gripped the Prince's ass quite hard and slowly dragged until it joined at the base of Legolas's length. Oropher bucked his hips forth and quickly unlaced his breeches, tugging at the strings and finding his hard cock ready to annihilate anything. He took a second for himself and squeezed his length until the head darkened a bit, pulling upwards as if trying to free a leg or something that had been stuck in a hole. He was incredibly rough with himself, and oh, how he loved it!

A voice commanding an answer sounded against Legolas' neck and another breathy gasp escaped his lips as he bucked his hips hard into Oropher's hand, his body singing in pleasure. Legolas' breathing was becoming labored and shallow as he pressed his forehead against Oropher's collar bone, upper back arched as he watched the King stroke him, long, slender fingers squeezing flesh that was already overly sensitized. A string of Sindarin curses sprung from his lips as he fought to maintain a sense of control over his body and hold out for as long as he possibly could, for where was the fun in a quick, simple release?

He knew that answer would not appease Oropher, and his eyes darkened at the sight of the King pleasuring himself with such force that for a moment Legolas feared he would rip his cock from his body. His hips moved sporadically against Oropher's closed fist, moving so deeply that the tip of his own length poked through his hands and pressed insistently against Oropher's belly on the other side. He bit his lip hard as he grunt, his body quaking as he nearly found release again, a sharp inhale of breath as he steadied himself through some sort of meditation. He tasted a metallic tang on his lips and realized vaguely that he he broke the surface of the tender flesh of his lip in deep concentration and focus.

One hand moved to close over Oropher's upon his cock as he tugged it almost brutally, before fingertips danced along his length, stroking upwards to tease the darkening tip.

"Pathro nin..."He managed to grind out for Oropher to fill him, but just barely as he found Oropher's lips again, covering his mouth to stifle the deep, rumbling groan that spilled from his mouth. With what he did not care. Anything and everything. Legolas desired someone who might attempt to tame him and break him in his unbridled passion.

"Saes..." He managed a smirk against Oropher's lips as he pulled back to look into his eyes. "I dhû hen and." Oh yes. They both would be in for a long night. Legolas would make certain of it.

Oropher watched Legolas and took his aroused look to mean everything was going well. "What shall I fill you with, I wonder...?" he murmured as he tasted Legolas's lips, faintly catching blood from how hard they had been bitten. His hand moved from Legolas's cock to circle his entrance, not pushing in just yet and merely pressing against the tight ring of muscle. "This..?" he asked, voice slipping into a lower tone that rolled through the mind like a tidal wave "Or this?" Oropher smacked Legolas's thigh with his own length, his hips jerking to the side a little. He grunted at the feeling that burst through him and locked his eyes with Legolas - sharing in their darkness together.

Oropher took a look down at his length, a throbbing eight and a half inches of something thick enough to resemble salami "I don't think I can... with this.." he muttered, poking around Legolas's entrance as if measuring its size. "Would you... take me instead?"

Legolas growled softly in his throat as his entrance was teased, his muscles quivering as he pushed down upon his finger, his eyes flicking down to watch as Oropher slapped his thigh with his rather.... impressive length. Legolas wondered what it felt like to be impaled upon it and how long the other's stony control would last before they both fucked with reckless abandon. But Oropher seemed concerned as to the fit and perhaps was a little leery since he had apparently killed someone with it before. Just before he was about to answer, to protest and tell him he could handle it, for the royal elves of Mirkwood were quite well-versed in many pleasures of the flesh, some wilder than others, Oropher offered Legolas something that he couldn't refuse.

His eyes were as dark as night as he looked at him, reaching down to run an appreciative hand over Oropher's strong and well-defined abdomen to his proud cock, stroking it firmly so that Oropher might feel his touch. "You would allow me such a gift?" Legolas smiled darkly and ran his other hand down Oropher's strong thighs, drawing his nails in patterns around the innermost flesh. "It is certainly not something I could deny you but..." It had been so long since he had taken another. The thought was certainly intriguing.

"I would not expect you to wish to be under another's control." His eyes glittered even as the room began to grow darker as the sun hid behind the trees, making way for the moon that was soon to appear int he sky. "I would gladly deal whatever pleasure you wish in return for my own."

Oropher averted his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Legolas's touch as he learnt how to make it be felt. He blushed from slight embarrassment and attempted to protest, taking both hands to grip Legolas's waist.

 "I just don't want to hurt you..." he muttered, shifting back and taking Legolas with him. "Worry not about control. I will give you the pleasure you seek, should you take me in this manner." The King was not about to admit his secret masochism to his grandson; absolutely nobody could know about THAT. It was so different to how he usually presented himself that one might even think something was wrong with him.

Slowly he lowered himself back down onto the bed and gazed up at Legolas. How could someone so young and beautiful look so powerful? So similar to Thranduil. Yet a mystery all on his own.

Oropher didn't really know the finer details of how two ellyn coupled, but assumed Legolas would do whatever was necessary. There weren't many places one could stick their dick into him, after all.

"Position?" he asked with a soft tone, unintentionally looking a tad submissive as he lay beneath the Prince.

"You could not hurt me..." Legolas murmured, following Oropher back into the bed and pressing a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth before nipping sharply at his jaw. In a strange way, it felt as though he was pleasuring a great beast with a thick hide. He had to amplify each touch so that Oropher could feel it, whereas Legolas was so sensitive the most featherlight of touches in just the right place could bring him to climax. The sensitivities of the two elves were like night and day. But he sat up slowly on Oropher's lap, enjoying the feel of the King's steely cock pressed between his firm buttocks as he swept his hands down the other's chest. He gazed down at him and touched himself as he watched Oropher through heavily lidded eyes and thick dark lashes.

"I was not truly worried about being unable to find my pleasures within you, Daeradar..." Legolas purred darkly. "I would merely take and take until I got what I sought." He reached down to press a firm forefinger and thumb to Oropher's jaw, tilting his chin up towards his as he claimed the other's mouth hungrily before pulling back with an audible sound.

He slid off of him slowly, teasingly, before he pressed a hand against his knee. "Spread your legs." He commanded, his tone gentle yet firm. "I want to see your face while I take you."

Oropher found the sight of Legolas touching himself quite intriguing just as he did the motions of both mouth and hands as he was kissed with passionate force. A light gasp left him at their parting, and soon he was instructed by a voice he'd never imagined would say these things to him.

He parted his legs for Legolas, shifting so his breeches could go down a little more. In moments he was free of them, and could spread his legs a bit wider. Both hands ran down his toned thighs and  to where Legolas sat, stroking along the slender body he knew would be pounding into him soon.

"You know my face is not capable of much..." he sighed, gazing up at Legolas "But if you find staring at a brick wall arousing, I will not deny you." Briefly he wondered if he was going to be stretched, so it might lessen the pain. Did it hurt when Legolas took someone unstretched? Would Oropher be painfully tight? Judging by his millennia of having several sticks up his ass and being more uptight than all his advisors combined, there might just be a chance he had no asshole at all.

As Oropher wiggled out of his breeches, Legolas' eyes dragged over the King's body in appreciation of his glorious, marred, and strong form. He was so like Thranduil yet so different, especially in the way in which he held himself. Legolas loved every little difference for it made each moment more exciting than the next. He still found it hard to believe that they had become this intimate after practically ignoring one another these past several weeks. But when Legolas wanted something, he did everything in his royal power to ensure that he got it.

He could here the uncertainty that tinged Oropher's deep and powerful voice and his smirk darkened as he made a motion with his hand. "Then turn over. On all fours, _lirimaer_..." Legolas did not wait for Oropher to follow suit before he gripped the other's hips and used all of his strength to flip him onto his belly, giving his buttocks a sharp smack. "Up." He growled softly, his voice heated and tinged with lust as Oropher was not moving fast enough for him, and Legolas was growing impatient. The throbbing between his own legs had become almost painful.

Legolas figured it had been quite some time since Oropher had had another like this. He would be careful to start, but Oropher had promised him he would not have to worry. And Legolas intended on losing himself tonight. It had been far too long since he could unleash this side of himself.

Oropher twitched as he was smacked and hurriedly got on all fours, muscles rippling with the speed he forced himself up with.

"Nghn..." He grunted at Legolas's brusque manner, finding this reversal of power incredibly erotic as he allowed his walls to come down and have his body taken like never before. No-one had ever called him 'lirimaer' in his life, nor once had such things even been hinted. Through this coupling he could feel as if his needs were being looked after, and that he was not judged for what he desired and felt. He supposed this was something akin to love, in its own unique way.

Piles of white silk dripped down Oropher's sides as his hair settled itself on either side of him. His head naturally ducked down, so different to the stiffly high angle he always held it up with on a daily basis. And he presented his ass to Legolas, firm and white with absolutely nothing marking it at all. That would soon change.

Legolas' hands were gripping Oropher's hips tightly to guide him up even more so his back was perfectly straight. His dark eyes ran down the scars of red and pink that curved from Oropher's chest to his back, tracing it with his nails, his mouth following suit as he pressed hot wet kisses to the long lines. He leaned back, then, running an appreciative hand over Oropher's rear before smacking it none too gently. The sound seemed to echo throughout the King's chambers as Legolas ground his arousal into the back of Oropher's thigh.

"You are beautiful, Daeradar..." Legolas murmured softly before he slapped the other side of his ass gently, positioning himself so that he could slide his own length between the crack of his cheeks, shuddering heavily. He spat into his hand to wet himself so the sliding was fluid and easy, slow and stimulating. "I wonder, though... Does the great King cry out in his passion for all to hear? Or is he as cold and stoic as a marble statue when he finds his release upon his sheets or in his hand?"

Legolas smirked down at him, his gaze so hot he was certain Oropher could feel it between his shoulder blades. "You shall not touch yourself. Not unless I command it. Do you understand?"

"I have not touched myself since the Second Age.." Oropher growled, voice hitching as he was smacked with delightful force. "Of course I understand." It felt so strange to be under the command of someone younger than him, beneath him in status yet of his own blood - he had only coupled with a fellow King in this manner before. It was like role play for him, to have Legolas treat him like this. And Oropher did love to play games, sadistic and malicious pursuits of whatever took his interest.

His elbows pressed into the sheets as he adjusted the distribution of his body weight. Oropher was able to hold himself up for seemingly infinite amounts of time, both on his feet and in this position. He could feel Legolas's cock sliding behind him and was prepared for intercrural sex hot enough to light a fire in his ass. His own length pressed up against his stomach, now fully awake and throbbing in a slow, sensual wave that rocked his body with successive pleasure.

In his rare past encounters he'd never let his voice be heard, always silent with no expression other than the alternating pitch of breath. It was a thing one would learn to listen for and gauge the situation by, if they happened to be of similar mentality to Oropher. Legolas most likely would be taking all he could and not giving a second's care to Oropher's condition - as the King himself had demanded a lack of it. There were to be no worries, no regrets, no strings attached. It was sex, as pure and addictive as one could have it.

Oropher clenched his butt around Legolas, almost pulling him in. Had he been of different stature, his ass would have its own gravitational pull and Legolas would barely be able to keep himself from their coupling.

Legolas hissed between his teeth as Oropher's buttocks clenched around him and he had to pull back suddenly, removing the contact of their lower bodies as he tried to steady himself. He did, however, lean forward, his golden hair cascading over his back and brushing the backs of Oropher's arms as he held himself firm and steady. Legolas' fingers found the King's thick white hair and he twisted it around his hand using it like a rein to pull Oropher's head back so he could look him in the eye, baring his throat.

"Then you shall show me nothing but complete self-control, I assume..." Legolas growled softly before releasing Oropher suddenly and moving swiftly and fluidly across the bed so that he was kneeling before the King, still on all fours. His hand found Oropher's hair again, and he ran the knuckles of his free one across the King's face. Oropher truly was beautiful, magnificent and regal even in this state, this rather base and degrading position. The fact that he could give himself up in this way made him more beautiful in Legolas' eyes. To show vulnerability showed strength in his eyes. He leaned in close to press his lips against Oropher's before pulling back and taking himself in hand, panting the King's lips with his aching cock.

"I intend to break you tonight, lirimaer. I want to hear you sing for me. Wet me." He purred breathlessly, pressing insistently against Oropher's mouth, asking for entrance.

Oropher prided himself on his self control and felt a rush run through him at the Prince's next command. Why did it feel so damned good to be ordered like this and actually want to obey? Thoughts on that would come later. Oropher's pale lips parted and he swallowed Legolas whole like a snake eating a baguette. He took the stiff length to the back of his throat and was all too eager to taste him, not caring in the slightest if he choked from his own tension. He groaned deeply and without shame, hungrily sucking at Legolas's length with skill one wouldn't expect from someone like him. Admittedly, he had read up on this sort of thing a few millennia ago and had found it incredibly arousing when he tried it on Gil-Galad. Woe betide anyone who actually claimed the King loved sucking dick, for they would find themselves without one soon enough.

He looked up at Legolas as he moved, arms and legs firmly remaining in place and hair being pulled at a sharp angle. In his eyes could be seen nothing but sheer enjoyment, though his lips would not smile.

Legolas' hand tightened in Oropher's hair as he rocked his hips gently towards his mouth, relishing the feeling of the tight heat that surrounded his cock. For someone who had not been intimate in quite a long time, Oropher certainly had skills that Legolas would not even thought possible. And of course, it only made him more curious of how things would go if the roles were reversed. He certainly would not mind being split in two by Oropher if the King could use his cock half as well as he could use his mouth. His head fell back and his blue eyes fluttered shut as he let out a low moan as his release continued to build and build. When he opened them again, he could see the sheer enjoyment in Oropher's eyes as two turquoise pools glittered, and he was an incredible sight to behold, so very lovely in his passion. In those two sparkling orbs was more emotion than Legolas had ever seen expressed by him.

Pulling out slowly with a wet pop, Legolas knew he could not linger for things would be over well before they started. It was not long before he was behind the King again, his cock throbbing as he pressed two slender fingers just inside Oropher's tight entrance, scissoring gently to loosen him. But Legolas was impatient and had no intent to ease into him carefully. His other hand gripped Oropher's hip hard, pulling him back slightly as Legolas sat back on his heels. "Do you want me, Daeradar? Shall I fill you now? I can hardly wait any longer..."

"Take me.." he breathed "Now. I don't care how much it hurts."

_'I don't even feel pain. But I want to.'_

Oropher pushed back against Legolas's fingers and couldn't relax much, but the intrusion gave him so many sensations he simply had to gasp.

"Ooh..." he sighed, licking his lips as he relished the taste of Legolas who would soon be sheathed within him. Oropher had the least patience of anyone when it came to getting what he wanted; perhaps that was where Legolas had gotten it from. But he was far above begging, at least for now.. His body wanted and so did his heart - to be joined, to be loved, to be fucked - all of it, flesh against flesh, lips and teeth, nails and heat. He needed it all.

"Legolas.. I want you..." he managed to growl as he let his head hang low, body tense and just waiting to he breached.

Oropher's pleas were like music to Legolas' ears and he leaned over him, his chest pressed to Oropher's back as his mouth hovered over his ear. He had removed his fingers as he positioned himself at the entrance that was hardly prepared half as well as it should have been and moved his hips in one fluid motion, pushing deep into him until he was sheathed to the hilt, pushing past all manner of clenching muscle that fought to keep him out. Legolas would have none of it. His breath came out in a sharp hiss against Oropher's ear and his nails dug into the King's hips.

He was tight, almost painfully so. It was exquisite and beautiful, some of the sweetest forbidden fruit Legolas had ever tasted. "Elbereth..." He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he steadied himself a moment before straightening himself, his hips beginning to snap into him, each thrust a little more forceful than the last.

Legolas head hung, the ends of his hair brushing against Oropher's buttocks as he moved, pulling him by the hips as his own thrust hard into him as though he couldn't get deep enough inside. He wanted to bury himself in the other elf until neither of them could stand when this was over.

"Gods, you feel so good..." He moaned.

Oropher's whole body fought from lurching forwards as Legolas shoved himself in, a terrible searing pain shooting up the King's spine. He gasped shallowly and without breath, eyes rolling back and mouth agape. A compliment of sorts floated to his thoughts and Oropher took further pleasure in that, not as vain as Thranduil but still liking to know that his body did its job well enough.

Every single thing from nails digging in to a hot breath by his reddened ears sent his desire further aflame. Oropher's breathing was ragged and timed with every thrust, as if Legolas fucked the insides of his body so hard they compressed his lungs. Hell, even the thought of that excited him. Oropher liked to give it gentle and receive rough. So rough that a lesser man or elf would have been split from coccyx to optic nerve. He almost sounded like a dog panting with the harshness of his breaths, and pushed back against Legolas with a comfortable angle allowing deep access within.

Every muscle beneath Legolas' pale skin tightened and tensed as he plunged into Oropher, groaning deeply as he felt Oropher tilt his hips upwards slightly to allow him to slide deeper. His inner muscles clamped around him, shuddering as he followed suit, their hips moving in unison, a pushing and pulling motion all the same. Legolas loved it rough, would give and receive both ways. Of course, he could be a sweet angelic thing upon first glance, but Legolas was a passionate lover, a fighter, and followed his heart and body in all things.

His hands found Oropher's hair again and he pulled gently upon it, using the silken locks as leverage as he continued to pound hard into him with such force that the bed shook and creaked beneath him. Soon, nothing could be heard save for their heavy breathing and the scraping of wood upon the floor. Legolas leaned over him, contorting in a way to press a trail of hot kisses up his spine before his mouth found Oropher's neck, his teeth sinking in deep, latching on as his hips pumped with an almost animalistic fury.

Oropher felt like he was being torn apart by a bear, prey being shaken in Legolas's jaws. Most prey weren't fucked this hard before they were eaten, though. The feeling of teeth sinking deep into his neck drew out a deep, hoarse cry from the King.

"More..." he gasped, "Ah!!" Oropher could be quite loud in opposite to silence when he wanted to, but the slight yelp had come from surprise as he didn't expect Legolas to bite him so hard. His cock strained beneath him and ached to be touched, and now he realised why Legolas had told him not to place a hand upon himself. They would both end up in a collapsed mess if not for Oropher's table-like stance, and he would probably shoot like a geyser with a few strokes to his arousal.

He worked hard at meeting Legolas's thrusts with motions of his own, until their bodies slammed together at each touch with double the force of their individual movements. Oropher was finding it harder and harder (pun intended) to keep himself under control, the need to touch growing so great he could almost hear a voice in his head telling him to break. But he was strong, his body of steel and will like iron. He would not bend the rules and command of his partner tonight, nor would he ever. This was what he upheld as Legolas fucked him into oblivion.

Oropher begged for more and Legolas had ever intention on giving it to him, not for just the King's sake but for his own. Legolas sought to quell his own sudden desire for complete domination of the other beneath him this night, to be possessed and loved and fucked as well as he had been since he had reached majority all those centuries ago.

Oropher rocked back on him as Legolas pulled him tight against his body, the force of Oropher's movements nearly sending Legolas flying backwards and off the bed if not for the death grip in his hair and upon a sharp hipbone. Nails raked up a slender, milky white thigh to leave slightly angry marks that would take a few days to fade. He could feel Oropher's pulse against his tongue, the life force that moved through him and the thudding of his heart. Legolas' own nostrils flared in desire as his eyes darkened to the pitch black of night. The room had become dark as well, for the moon was rising, and it became near impossible for Legolas to see his handiwork.

But he could feel Oropher around him, could touch him and taste him and smell him, and it was all Legolas wanted at this moment. He knew Oropher was aching for a touch, but his will was like steel and he had not once made a movement to do anything for himself. Legolas changed the angle of his hips, searching for that little sweet spot deep inside him that would surely make him lose all of the sense he had left. At this very moment, this was more than sex and seeking comfort in one another. There was love, yes, but also an unspoken challenge between them, for Legolas wished to challenge and be challenged.

One hand snuck beneath Oropher's belly to lightly trace the vein along the underside of his cock, flickering lightly before removing his hand altogether. That was all he would get... for now.

Oropher had not been treated this roughly and enjoyed it in millenia. Legolas was a challenge, with a ferocious lust of his own the likes of which Oropher had not seen before. Truly unique he was, and the King found it a delicious thing. He could hold himself past sensible restraint until his mind broke like a dam flooding with pleasure, and Legolas seemed determined to fuck and tease all at once just to see his grandfather come undone. Oh, Oropher would keep going for he loved the bruising force of Legolas's in and out thrusts, the frenzied motions they both coordinated and everything he could feel.

And then, he felt something else. A certain spot deep within, tiny and hot had been pushed into by Legolas and he could hold his voice back no more. Oropher howled incoherently at the great thrust to his core, soon joined by a rapid assault of more pressure over and over again to that very place. Combined with a light finger running along his length, Oropher began to see stars.

Something interesting could be noted about the elven peak. If an elf went for a time without sex (for example, a week) they would reach greater heights of pleasure on their next occasion than they would if they had been copulating every day. If left for a month, the effect would be even more impressive. Years... Centuries... Such lengthy amounts of time could lead to an elf going unconscious at the surge of sensation they felt. They were, after all, expressive creatures. Sadness could kill them, joy gave them strength. And an orgasm after three thousand years? Well, Legolas was about to find out.

Legolas had never experienced anything like what was happening now. He allowed himself to get lost in and drown within the sensations that flooded through his veins. The pleasure he felt was immeasurable, the sense of control and dominance getting to his head and causing it to swell. He intended to fuck Oropher until he himself went blind from lust, and already his vision was starting to dark. His mouth had not yet left the King's neck, and in fact his jaws sunk in deeper still until he could taste Oropher's blood, a coppery tang and strange sweetness flooded his mouth quite unlike anything he had ever known.

He knew how badly that must have hurt but he continued to pound into him with bruising force as his body flushed with renewed arousal and power. Perhaps it was the full moon, but there was something wild and primal that had awoken in the Prince that would likely not calm anytime soon. His hand came down suddenly on Oropher's ass as he thrust punishingly into him, pressing his hand on the back of Oropher's head and pushing him down against the pillows so his ass was raised to him and Legolas claimed a deeper control.

"Fuck..." He hissed in Westron, a nasty little habit of using the Common Speech to curse without thought that he had picked up whilst surrounded by the likes of Men and a Dwarf for over a year.

Oropher's sounds indicated he had hit his mark and Legolas continued to plunge into that spot over and over so that they might echo throughout the great forest.

"Say my name..." Legolas breathed throatily, giving Oropher's reddened rear another rough snap. "Say it..."

Oropher exploded the second he felt Legolas's teeth hit a nerve and that hand smack his ass.

 ** _"LEGOLAS!!"_** he cried, breath fleeing in an instant as he released with the force of a volcanic eruption into the sheets below. It lasted for seizure-inducing seconds and oh how he shook all over, the sheer strength of such pleasure squishing his mind into a nonexistent derp. He was nothing but ecstasy in that moment and collapsed beneath Legolas, flat on the bed and spread out like a creamy white mashed elf potato.

The room's darkness swallowed his consciousness and with it, his echoing voice. Oropher's body squeezed tightly around Legolas and remained that way as if intending to keep them joined. And his face slackened, giving him the look of a pleased dead man.

Legolas felt Oropher tremble around him and he shuddered hard, unable to hold back as the muscles clamping around his cock threatened to swallow it whole as the King found his release against the sheets. Legolas followed soon thereafter, screaming out Oropher's name and leaving no doubt to who was listening what was going on. If anyone was even listening in the forest at all. His body went slack atop Oropher's back, the King's body tight and keeping him deep inside as Legolas' pleasure leaked over the backs of his thighs. He could not see the damage done but from the slickness of everything, there might be a bit of regret come morning's light.

He shivered slightly as he buried his face in Oropher's hair, wrapping it about himself like a blanket as his fingers traced the other elf's lips, feeling how they were curved up slightly. He listened for a moment to make sure there was soft breathing, that he hadn't killed the other and smiled to himself when he realized that Oropher seemed to be alive and well. Slowly, he rolled off of Oropher and pressed against his side.

Oropher did not move until he woke the next morning, a dreamless sleep letting him have more peace than he'd ever gotten from blocking out the world. He felt better rested than he had in ages, though it was odd to open his eyes and be in slight pain with no memory of a battle. Scratch that, it was a _lot_ of pain on the inside that left him glad elves didn't need to poop. His entire rectum would have disintegrated if he tried.

Quietly he raised himself up using both arms, feeling a soreness to his ever-stiff neck. Fingers touched upon the spot where Legolas had bitten him and felt dried blood, its scent metallic and sweet all at once. Oropher tried to roll over but ended up on top of Legolas, who felt like a sexy pile of bones beneath him. With a concentrated effort he rolled again, and ended up on his face off the side of the bed.

"Neurghh.." he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his nose. "Legolas...?"

Legolas' sleep had been deep, dreamless. His eyes had closed the moment he hit the pillows beside Oropher and when he awoke, he felt like he had run miles and miles the day before. Well, by awoke he meant that he had nearly been crushed by the larger elf as Oropher rolled over. He gasped into the pillows as he turned his head, his blue eyes fluttering open. He pushed himself so he could roll onto his side to look at the King, reaching out to touch his thick white hair that Legolas had been using as a blanket most the evening.

"Hmmm?" He murmured softly, blinking the last bit of sleep from his eyes as he recalled the aftermath of the night before. In the morning light it would be easy to survey the damage done, and Legolas reached up to touch his lips, feeling the bit of pain where he had bitten them. They were slightly swollen and he tasted blood in his mouth. He swallowed suddenly, fearful that he had taken a chunk out of the other elf in his fury. Luckily no one had bled out in the process. That would surely have led to a very terrifying shock upon waking.

He sat up slowly and his head spun in a delightful way. Oropher's face was pressed into the bed and he observed the nail marks and bruises all over the King's hips, buttocks, and back that complemented his scars nicely. He had been a canvas for Legolas'... _creative_ expression the night prior and the Prince flushed at the thought of it all.

"I... I got carried away last night..." he said quietly. "Forgive me."

Legolas' eyes widened slightly at the sight of the wound on his neck, clearly a bite mark, and an angry one at that. For a moment, he couldn't believe he did such thing. He had never... ruined another's flesh to such a great extent. The pillow Oropher had slept upon was stained with blood as well and it looked a bit like a small crime scene. The moment of mortification passed however, when Legolas thought upon the extreme pleasure they had each found in it, blood, scratches, bites, and all.

He reached out to touch the wound with his fingertips, the flesh raw and undoubtedly sore and tender to the touch. He raised an eyebrow at Oropher's request but could not deny the heat that flared within him at the idea. Never would he dare to wound his father in such a way, and now that he had seen what he could do, he feared allowing himself this freedom again. It would have to be in a controlled environment, and Oropher was the King of Control, it seemed.

He leaned in close, his hair brushing along Oropher's chest and shoulders. He assumed that the King meant with his tongue, for their were no wash cloths in sight by which to clean anything at all. The metallic scent was heavy close to his nose, and already he felt his eyes start to darken, his blood run hot as his tongue snaked out of his mouth to run around the wound, hesitant to taste a first. It still maintained a coppery sweetness. His breath was coming steadily through his nose, blowing warm air upon the mangled flesh as he managed to clean a small patch of it. His mouth wandered upwards towards Oropher's ear to caress the soft lobe with his tongue.

"Like this?" he breathed cheekily.

"Mmmm... That's good.." Oropher sighed at the stinging warmth that melted into pleasure, closing his eyes while Legolas licked him. Rarely did he praise anyone for anything (usually one would receive a silent glare in response to whatever they did) but now he felt the words come naturally for his grandson. He hoped Thranduil wouldn't find out about this. Oropher would never be able to live it down. Still, what did it matter if Legolas tore out a chunk of his neck? It would regenerate easily enough. And it felt damn good.

The lightest tickling sensation danced across his skin from where Legolas's hair swept its tips by his chest, and leaning on one hand Oropher slowly dragged his fingers through it - feeling the softness like cool silk against his rough hand. His head tipped in the direction of Legolas's licks to his ear, hot and wet enough to send a flush to his cheeks. He could hear the light breaths and a little more intimate sounds from Legolas, and found himself baring his neck lewdly as he secretly desired more.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, mouth falling open a little as his eyebrows relaxed. Gods, he could only imagine how he looked. Skin marked by so much it was barely skin at all and more of a scattering of memorable pain. Face usually calm now contorted in restrained pleasure. And lips giving voice to expression small but powerful.

There was something incredibly wrong about this whole ordeal and he did not care to think on Thranduil's thoughts on the matter, provided if he ever found out. It was probably best not to mentioned anything at all. He figured Oropher was likely very tight lipped being how he remained so silent for millennia. But still, it was thrilling nonetheless, and a touches of comfort had quickly spiraled out of control. Legolas regretted nothing, for slowly, ever so slowly, he was learning that it was important to live life with absolutely nothing to regret. Elves lived a long time, and if all of that time was spent feeling the pain of memory and guilt, what sort of life was that after all. He sought to draw a few more sounds from Oropher's lips, even if it involved subtly soft sighs of just the slightest quickening of breath. Legolas took each change to mean a job well done.

When Legolas had finished his own eyes were dark and cheeks flushing, clearly as moved as Oropher had been by this. He reached out to wipe away the last bit and almost daintily wiped his mouth. He ran his hand over Oropher's chest and pressed his head into the crook of his neck again, breathing his scent in deeply. He could still smell his own scent upon Oropher's flesh, mixed with the events from the night before, and it was heady and just a bit intoxicating.

His fingers moved to trail over Oropher's other ear that was not tainted by markings and stroked it gently. "There. Good as new." He was indicating his neck wound with a sheepish smile. "Almost."

"Mn." Oropher nodded and allowed himself to be calm for now, knowing his body would heal in a week's time. But he was a bit concerned how his back looked. He had a concealed tattoo that spread over his entire upper back, and now that Legolas had marked everywhere with his fingernails Oropher wasn't sure if his skin was in one piece.

"Legolas, I do hope you haven't destroyed my back." he spoke with a cool, even tone and leaned forth to sit on his own "Can you check something for me?" Oropher concentrated for a single moment and upon his pale skin, patterns of green so dark they were almost black appeared to reach from the center of his spine. He had gotten that tattoo as the sigil of his house when the Silvan took him as King - it was of a stag with wild, curling antlers with intricate spiralling designs all the way to his shoulders. Thranduil had one and Legolas too - easily able to be concealed at will, switched on and off for convenience's same. Oropher needed to know if his back had been skinned beyond repair. He didn't put it past Legolas to do such things.

Legolas watched as Oropher revealed the tattoo upon his flesh, the intricate stag with great antlers that unfurled across his shoulder blades as magnificent as their owner. There were quite a few angry marks that ran over parts of the tattoo, distorting some of the designs in the stag's antlers, but nothing that was beyond repair. He traced a finger lightly over the design, which was far larger than his own. Legolas' was at the small of his back, the antlers curling around his waist and he kept it concealed a majority of the time.

"It doesn't look like a beast mauled you too badly, if that's what you mean." Legolas raised an eyebrow and his next words were spoken carefully, since he felt like he was on thin ice all of a sudden, a wrong step in any direction would send him crashing through the surface. "I think it will be just fine." He looked at him curiously. Legolas had a natural curiosity about, well, everything and anything. "And if it... wasn't fine?"

"If it wasn't fine, I'd just have to bite your skin off." said Oropher in a pleasant, casual tone as if he was explaining how to cook a chicken on a TV show. He turned and nipped at Legolas's neck as if to make a point, but it was a controlled and light thing that posed no real threat. Of course he didn't mean it - truthfully, he had no clue what he would do if Legolas had given him some irreparable wounds. He knew the Prince was being cautious with him now, and partially enjoyed how they were able to interact like this.

Legolas paled slightly, eyes widening a bit at Oropher's threat, though he knew there was no real heat behind it. Still, he had never interacted with another elf who had ever even so much as joked about something like that. He wondered briefly if his grandfather had ever... done that. If he had killed someone with his cock it was more than possible. Oropher was full of surprises, apparently, as was Legolas, though, slightly less gruesome.

Oropher moved to sit properly and looked down. "It's surprising I can still sit.." he muttered to himself, then looked to Legolas. "Are you alright?" Oropher wanted to make sure Legolas was still in one piece after what they had done last night. No dislocated testicles or anything like that, hopefully.

Upon mention of last night Legolas smirked pridefully and started to work the tangles from his golden hair with his fingers, his movements deft and swift. There was a particularly annoying knot which he eventually gave up being gentle with and started to tear at. "Well, you asked for it, Daeradar. I merely gave you what you wished for." _Rather, what we both wished for._

He looked down at himself. He was unmarred, though his muscles were still exhausted and his back tight. He perhaps had sprained something in his hip but there was nothing that would not clear up in a day. "Of course I'm alright." Legolas murmured and stretched like a cat, grinning at the other elf. His eyes moved to Oropher's neck again and he poked at it lightly. "Are you sure you don't want me to put something on that?"

Oropher waved his hand dismissively. "I will be fine." The spot on his neck was something he could pass off as _'just a scratch'_ but in secret he liked the dull ache it brought to his usually unfeeling body. Just to be able to _feel_ something... It meant a lot to him. He also appreciated having his body marked - be it the scars of a warrior or aggressive bites of passion.

"Tell me, do you treat Thranduil like this?" he asked darkly, a suddenly intense glare directed to Legolas. "He is the type to complain about pain yet deal with it all the same." Fingers trailed to Legolas's hair and tugged a bit at the knot. Oropher was still, contemplating things. He then looked towards the Prince for an answer.

Legolas had never gone off on Thranduil like he had with Oropher, keeping his touches relatively innocent, though when he got a bit rough and Thranduil showed any bit of discomfort he backed down. His cheeks darker a bit and he met Oropher's glare before giving up with a particularly stubborn knot. And it would just have to remain like that for the Prince wished to waste no more energy on the annoying thing. He could survive if everything wasn't absolutely perfect. Often, it was not. He was the elfling who sought out mud puddles and the dirtiest, wildest way of travel. He was still like that in many ways.

"I have never... tried. Not to the extent of last night." His cheeks darkened. He had always been curious, of course. "But we have never been in a situation where it was... acceptable for Adar to go around bearing anything like..." He nodded to Oropher's neck. "That."

He raised an eyebrow at Oropher, reaching to touch the King's thick, white hair, running his fingers through it. Legolas moved to sit in his lap, pressing their noses together, still meeting the other's glare with an unwavering grin that crossed his lips. "I think he would slaughter me if I tried."

"Not if I got there first." Oropher's voice was a low growl almost in warning, eyes locked on Legolas's and face still unsmiling. "You will never hurt him." he stated, demanding his words to be understood. Their faces were close enough to feel each other's body heat and sense the core being of what made the two elves themselves. Oropher inhaled silently and breathed out, nudging his slightly hooked nose against Legolas's softer one. Where Oropher was sharp angles and thick muscle, Legolas was slender and toned just like Thranduil.

His arms secured Legolas close to him, warm and thick was his grip around the Prince's waist. And still he gazed into the depths of Legolas's eyes, not searching or probing but just looking. Peacefully and with caution.

Legolas was almost offended that Oropher would even insinuate that he would hurt the King. The Prince thought of Thranduil as the other half of his soul, and he would never do anything maliciously against him. His eyes flashed in challenge as he stared Oropher down. Surely the King did not realize how deep Legolas' love reached for his father, though he knew it would be next to impossible if he ever so much as tried anything like this with him. He did not wish for an unwilling partner, and in fact, the thought made him sick. Oropher had been more than willing, and Legolas embraced that eagerly.

"I would _never_ hurt him." Legolas repeated, not in answer to the demand that Oropher gave but to allow it to stand alone as his own statement so that there was no question. "How _dare_ you even suggest that I would." There was no true heat in his words as he rested his hands upon Oropher's broad shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly. His back was stiff and straight so that Legolas straightened to his full height in Oropher's lap, although the other's torso was still longer than his own.

"I am not some reckless, wild beast that cannot control myself."

"Last night gives me reason to doubt that." Oropher raised an eyebrow and almost looked amused, ready to turn his sass on in response to the challenge. Oh, he loved a challenge. Legolas presented it to him in an exciting and readable way, but was unique in the twists and turns his moods and arguments could take. Oropher did not back down for a second, able to stare like a proper elf who had no need to blink while awake or asleep.

He enjoyed the feeling of Legolas's fingers upon his shoulders, actually able to feel them now that Legolas treated him with the touches he could sense. The Prince had quite the dominative skills but Oropher thought privately that they were nothing compared to his own. Still, he could engage in a battle of wits with this elf and probably end it in sex rather than bloodshed. There were not many who could go against Oropher for anything and come out of it alive.

For the millionth time he asked himself - _'Why is Legolas's manner like this so ridiculously arousing?'_

It was a fair response to Legolas' words. In fact, he had surprised even himself. "I only relinquished control because it is what you _requested_ of me, Daeradar. Do you not remember, or did I fuck you so hard that your brains came out of your ears?" His grin turned into a smirk, a rather arrogant and beautiful thing that was slightly unusual to see on Legolas' fair features. Yes, he felt like challenging everything now, for there was something innately within Oropher, something that Legolas could not place, that made him feel like he should, like he wanted to. At times he found it difficult to argue playfully like this in his father's presence, as deeply as he loved him. There had been more than one time that he was certain he had disappointed the King, and blatantly hurt him, by leaving for the Fellowship, for instance, and never reaching out to him during his time away. Oropher seemed open to this sort of bitingly playful banter, and for the first time in weeks Legolas was beginning to feel light of heart.

His hands moved down Oropher's chest and he pinched a nipple firmly, twisting it the slightest bit before wiggling his eyebrows and moving back to the knot in his hair, as though just casually blowing the other elf off after the small insult carelessly tossed his direction.

"You have nothing to fear. I am _always_ in control."

"Hnf." was all that came from Oropher in reply and he restrained himself from expressing how damn good it felt to have Legolas pinch his nipple. Many things scrolled past his mind, witty comebacks and aggressive motions but he just remained silent and watched his grandson.

He did feel like his brain had melted out of his ears with the force of Legolas's fucking last night - not that he needed it anyway, his hands did most of his thinking and acting for him. Oropher took everything seriously when his mind was with him, but as it was this morning he wasn't really thinking right. Otherwise, Legolas wouldn't have been able to get a single insult past him and still have his lips in one piece.

With a sigh, the King shifted and got out of bed. He stretched, something in his lower back cracked, and he shut his eyes.

 _'For fuck's sake'_ he thought to himself   _'I'm too old for this shit.'_

Legolas grunted softly as he slid off of Oropher's lap and onto the mattress. He took the King's lack of a comeback as resignation and the Prince took that as a silent victory. He would take it. He laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. He vaguely recalled his father's chambers where he had spent so many night with him staring up at the sky. He had known the constellations like the back of his hand, having learned quickly as a child to describe them in impeccable detail so that Thranduil might imagine them while he was blind. He remembered how his hand would twine in Thranduil's and how, later, when the King had regained his sight and Legolas was older, they would stare up at them together after their lovemaking, and Legolas' heart would be as bright as the brightest star he could find. But it felt like so long ago, and so far away. He sighed softly and sat up slowly before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and moving to gather up his own clothes.

Things felt strange now, as Oropher left the bed and left Legolas alone like this. It was a reminder that this had been merely sex and nothing more. There was love there, a family's love, but that was it. His other half was still missing, and that hole had not been filled. It could not be, not by anyone else but the King. He stepped into his breeches and pulled them up over narrow hips as he began to lace them slowly.

"That's it, then?" He asked, despite himself. He was not even sure where those words came from, or what really gave him the right to say that.

Oropher slowly turned to Legolas as he pulled on a thick outer robe, one which would be worn to the baths where Oropher planned to spend an hour or so getting clean. He blanked his face, hair tumbling from his shoulders and past the folds of dark green silk he wore.

"I suppose." he said quietly, straightening his back and taking his usual pose. It was not natural for one to stand so stiff - Legolas had literally just witnessed the short morning routine that Oropher went through to keep up his facade of an impenetrable, perfect being. Well, not impenetrable in a physical sense but mostly emotionally. Legolas knew that all too well. The King calibrated himself to look as normal as possible, so that none of his servants would become suspicious in the slightest. If it was discovered what they had done... hell, Oropher might end up assassinated by Galion or something.

 _'He can bloody well try'_ thought Oropher with a grim look, losing himself to his mind once more. He walked away from Legolas and had slipped back into his routine of ignoring the world.

Legolas watched dumbly for a moment as Oropher went back to being the passive elf of ice and stone that he had always seemed to be and left him alone. He shrugged on his tunic and moved towards the hallway to follow him. He had found someone to share his time with, and Legolas was not one to give something like that up so easily. In the midst of following him down the hall, the Prince paused in mid-step.

What in all of Mandos' Halls was he doing? Going to follow him would surely be a huge mistake. Oropher had fallen back into his old ways, and their night would likely fade out of the King's memory as sure as his mark would fade. It hurt, regardless, for Legolas had seen something flicker within the King that he did not know existed. It brought him great pleasure to know that he had seen a side of the other elf that none had seen in millennia.

He was lost in his thoughts as he turned to go look for a bottle of wine for breakfast. Surely Thranduil would be home soon and Legolas would hopefully forget about his own hurt and confusion.

Legolas watched dumbly for a moment as Oropher went back to being the passive elf of ice and stone that he had always seemed to be and left him alone. He shrugged on his tunic and moved towards the hallway to follow him. He had found someone to share his time with, and Legolas was not one to give something like that up so easily. In the midst of following him down the hall, the Prince paused in mid-step. 

What in all of Mandos' Halls was he doing? Going to follow him would surely be a huge mistake. Oropher had fallen back into his old ways, and their night would likely fade out of the King's memory as sure as his mark would fade. It hurt, regardless, for Legolas had seen something flicker within the King that he did not know existed. It brought him great pleasure to know that he had seen a side of the other elf that none had seen in millennia.

He was lost in his thoughts as he turned to go look for a bottle of wine for breakfast. Surely Thranduil would be home soon and Legolas would hopefully forget about his own hurt and confusion.

As Legolas waited and pined for Thranduil once again, standing on the great, railingless balcony to await the King's return, alone once more, the Elvenking himself was wandering the forest, making his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( oh vampolas XDD Oropher has a secret blood kink so he won't mind if you tear out a chunk of his neck *cackles into the distance* ))
> 
> ^the entire plot  
> No ahem lol it's much more serious than that but YEH. These Sindar are SAVAGE AS FUCK. Also, say what you will but this smut scene right here is the best one I have ever had the privilege of being a part of. It's just... so perfect for describing the opening up, hidden desires, raw nature and sexuality of these two elves.
> 
> BTW. There is something I want you to know. Legolas may be entirely naive to it but Oropher is in fact a monster (or at least, he /was/ pretty horrible). He isn't known as 'Oropher the Cruel' for nothing. Here is a ficlet with some headcanons about him that I sent to my RP partner (and it was well received!) during the Legopher writing stages. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3337178


	23. 4-11 : MOAR Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUILAD MELLON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Feb 11- Feb 12 2015. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Thranduil wandered through the forest, having taken a few detours on his way to look for any sign of his fellow elves. The place seemed desolate, unnervingly so. But this gave him hope that perhaps Liliel was not there to jump on him with a knife, that Legolas had waited for him in the safety of Oropher's arms and life would be able to resume as normal. Or at least as normal as it could be when the world the Valar helped create was crumbling half an ocean away.

Celeborn had been Reborn, like many of the elves who had arrived in a sudden influx from Middle Earth. He had started to turn, his wife's dark willing overtaking his mind to the point that the elf Lord had been certain he was going made. It had been terrifying, it had made him ill, and to watch their beautiful wood turn decrepit and diseased while his wife went off to declare war on Mirkwood tore his heart. This was not how things were supposed to happen, and before he followed her into battle like he knew he would have been destined to, he had taken his life with his own sword during the night when he was alone. But since she had become mad with power, he was always alone. The one good thing he had done, in all of this, was to help Thranduil escape. However, his attempts had been in vain because he knew that the Elvenking would perish regardless. A coward's death it might have been considered, but he did not care. He knew not what else to do, and if he had denied Galadriel for much longer, she would have just killed him regardless. He had a choice then, and he chose to leave this world by his own hand.

He had seen his Galadhrim in Aman, and they were changed men, not crazed and mad like they had been under Galadriel's dark magic. He remained separate from them for now, wandering on his own. He had seen what was occurring in their world, and knowing that his wife was a catalyst in all of it near killed him. He had nearly forgotten why he had fallen in love with her in the first place, for he could not remember the way things once were. He had even found his beloved Celebrian, who was still dark in mind and spirit even after having sailed following her attack. The Elves remembered everything, and it was likely she would never truly heal. She was a shell of what she had once been when she had been married off to Elrond.

But soon, he would need to gather his men for the upcoming battle, for they would all need to fight to keep this place. When Arda fell Aman would follow suit. For now, he wandered through the forest to clear his thoughts, wishing for nothing more than to sleep a few millennia and wake up when this was all over. But as he walked, a strangely familiar sight greeted his eyes. Long silver hair that seemed to glow and a tall, slender figure that was...

"Thranduil?" He saw the elf from behind, and he could be mistaken. He called out regardless, hoping it was true.

Thranduil heard someone call his name and almost jumped out of his skin, having just convinced himself that there was absolutely nobody in the forest other than his father and son. His eyes lit up to a joyful light green as he saw his old friend and lover, legs carrying him closer until they were only inches apart.

"Celeborn!" Thranduil did not even hesitate a second and threw his arms around the elf, hugging him tightly in both greeting and expression of how he had missed their connection. "I was wondering when you would show your fair face around here."

Celeborn and Thranduil had known each other since Doriath, with the slightest possibility they just might be related. While Thranduil was destined to go and have adventures with the Noldor in the far West, Celeborn would follow his heart and establish a realm of his own with his powerful and beautiful love interest, Galadriel. Thranduil knew how Celeborn loved to travel and hoped they might meet several times more, and indeed it was often the Lord himself who came to the Greenwood rather than sending emissaries and messengers. Long into the night they would talk, and as Thranduil grew older and dissatisfied with his wife ( though not to the degree of Celeborn, who rarely got anything affectionate from the icy Galadriel) they occupied themselves with other things as the moon climbed high in the sky.

It was always Celeborn meeting Thranduil from will - and sometimes Thranduil being summoned to a council or something when he really wanted to stay home. In the Second Age there had been councils with every major elven power from Oropher to Gil-Galad, including Cirdan who'd seen it all in life and a few of the Istari. Thranduil found the world's affairs boring and a bit intimidating, even more so after he had his first real taste of leading his people into battle. Still, Celeborn had always been there for him. It was something he was certain of that would never change.

When Thranduil turned, a smile cracked Celeborn's sad features and the King closed the distance between them, greeting him warmly like he had no doubt he would. The former Lothlorien Lord embraced the other elf tightly, burying his face into his hair and enjoying the warm sensation in his heart and body at any closeness at all. When he pulled back, one arm remained around Thranduil's waist as another cupped the King's cheek. His features lit up as he gazed upon the other elf that seemed to be faring quite well. "You are... alive again, my dear Thranduil. I am so happy to see it so." He tucked a lock of hair affectionately behind the other's cheek. He recalled the days of old when they would often share in each other's company, though it had been quite some time since he took up residence in the Golden Wood with his wife.

"You look well, Thranduil. Very well." He knew all that had happened. Seen it all, been told it all when the Valar deemed him worthy of Rebirth. Now, here they stood, in the midst of battle once again. Celeborn truly wished no part in it, but he knew to do what was right. And what was right was to take up arms and fight. He had already lost his beautiful wife so long ago. So long ago that he could hardly remember her. His eyes moved around the forest, which was eerily quiet. He turned his grey eyes back to Thranduil and smiled slightly. "Had I know you had taken up residence here I would have come to pay my visits sooner."

"I have been wandering..." Thranduil leaned into Celeborn's touch, his love like an addiction no amount of dissociation could sway "And you look like you have been through much." Gently he nuzzled Celeborn with his nose, comfortably able to do so as they were similar in height and stature. What Celeborn had been through since their last encounter intrigued Thranduil greatly, but he sensed it had been potentially traumatic and did not ask further.

"We are on the cusp of war once again... and here I was, thinking people like you and I could finally live in peace." A soft sigh left smiling lips as Thranduil stole any distance between them and cast it aside. He favoured close contact, always owning the personal space of whoever he pleased, no matter who they were. With ease he pressed his body up against Celeborn, all slender limbs and soft silk with the only adornment on his usually fancy self being the dark necklace resting out of sight.

Celeborn closed his eyes, savoring their closeness. Yes, it had been long, too long since he had allowed himself the proper warmth and closeness he so deserved. There was not a bad bone in Celeborn's body and there never had been. He was certainly no warrior, and the thought of battle sickened him. He did not wish to fight. Gods, he wished this was over. He would chose a battle of wits and persuasion over a battle of blades and arrows any day. He did not mind how close Thranduil pressed to him. He kissed Thranduil's temple and ran his fingertips lightly along his cheek as he tilted Thranduil's head to look him in the eye.

"Yes. I think we both have been through much." He curled his arm into the King's. "Walk with me?" Celeborn asked gently, though he knew Thranduil would follow so he began to guide him. "I assume you have been staying with your father, the Great King. I will escort you back, but at least we shall have a little time together."

His eyes moved to the path before them. There was something different in the air of this forest, a different feeling and scent to it that he had noticed ever since Thranduil had set foot in it. He could not place it. The elf did not appear different, though neither did Celeborn in all of his garb. Beneath he bore the scars he had inflicted upon himself to bring him into Mandos' Halls. The was birthed in Aman with them, an ugly reminder of his choice. "You know as well as I, Thranduil, that is almost impossible to find peace in these worlds. No matter what. We are immortal, and for as long as the threads of these worlds exist, we shall walk them, and we shall endure whether we wish it or not. It is a never-ending cycle."

Celeborn cocked his silver head to the side. "But you made it out with Legolas, when all was said and done. You at least have each other here, intact, while so many were separated and remain so..."

Thranduil walked with Celeborn, side by side and pleased with his company. He remembered the Silvan who had been separated - those who had burned, those who had fled East of Mirkwood... those who hid in the Palace and were sundered from their friends. And he agreed with Celeborn.

"Indeed, Legolas and I had been blessed with each other's continued support throughout this whole ordeal." He wondered if Celeborn knew the extent of the relationship between father and son. Both Celeborn and Elrond seemed to know everything about Thranduil, for they were close enough to the Elvenking to be able to see right through him and read his heart no matter how private he kept it.

"I do hope he will forgive me for running away a few days ago. His mother was about to murder me and it wouldn't do well to spill blood in this place." Now Thranduil allowed himself to lean his head against Celeborn for a little while, their hair mingling like Mithril and white gold all at once. Swapping stories was a favourite pastime of the Sindar, and Thranduil could tell both summarised and recounted versions of events when he needed to get knowledge across. He was good at that, relaying memories as if he could extract them in a physical form. Only when the memories turned tragic, of fire and death - then he would falter.

This time he was speaking softly and with a calm tone, voice like smooth petals gliding across the surface of a lake. Inwardly he worried, as always, what the future would hold. His foresight hadn't  come to him while sleeping in quite a while, and it concerned him. Celeborn was not a fighter, though quite capable in battle if he needed to be. Thranduil didn't want him to go through any more heartache - for his own life or those of others.

Celeborn did not know complete details regarding Thranduil's relationship with Legolas, but he knew that his love spanned far and deep for his son, past the points and obligations a parent would have for their child. Legolas was beautiful, strong, and wild, so it would only make sense. They had much to bond over, for they had only had each other for so long. Secretly, it surprised him that the Valar would send them both to Aman without separation, as the nature of their relationship was one that was often frowned upon. Celeborn could not, and did not judge, for love that was pure and strong was a beautiful thing, and it mattered not who it occurred between. Their world needed more of love like that.

He frowned slightly when Thranduil mentioned Liliel, but did not inquire as to why his wife had been so angry with him. It was certainly not his place to inquire. "Regardless of all that has happened..." Celeborn said softly, his arm unhooking from the King's so that their hands could twine together as they often would when they strolled through the forests in Mirkwood together when they were younger. "I am happy that you are alive. Both of you." He sighed softly. "I only wish that I could have done more to..." He raised his hand and made a gesture in the air. "Stop this. All of it. Things are worse than I have seen... well, ever before."

Celeborn offered Thranduil a soft smile, for his own expressions had been quite muted and tinged with sadness as of late. "But wandering, Thranduil? I have not known you to be the type to do so. That is more of a behavior your son would take to, not you." He chuckled. "Has your father not allowed you to take his throne so that you might rule over a small group of elves and begin a Kingdom anew?"

"My father, give up the throne?" Thranduil laughed a little hollowly at that, an agitated sarcasm hiding behind his false mirth. "You know how he is. He would die before he bowed to me." Many candidates of royal blood lived in Aman - Thingol of the Sindar, Olwë of the Teleri, heaps of Vanyar up in Taniquetil not to mention the countless Noldor descended from Fingon, Fëanor the Kinslayer among them. It was a wonder there were no wars in Aman for the clashing royal houses and clans of elves - but the general rule was, when a King of Middle-Earth arrived, he took the throne over his people.

Most of the troublemakers were stuck in the Void, and through the grace of the Valar civil wars had narrowly been avoided. Oropher was one to never give up authority or status, for in his mind and heart he was the King, first over the Silvan and destined to be so for all eternity. Every Silvan alive knew him thus, even if they preferred Thranduil to rule. It upset Thranduil that he could not even ask his father about these things - but he could live easily enough as the second (lesser?) King of the Silvan in the Great Forest. He also had a few other elves following him, the Nandor and Laegrim among them. The Sindar followed whoever they liked, most leaning to Oropher for his wisdom and their memories of him.

 

Thranduil snapped out of his deep thoughts about rank and structure. He hated to get lost in royal business when with company like Celeborn, who knew this stuff but didn't worry too much about it. Gently he squeezed his companion's hand and allowed himself to be calm.

"It has been known the Valar will send us to fight in Arda. Then, we shall see who will be King."

Celeborn had known very well that Oropher would be loathe to give up his position. If there was an elf in this world more stubborn than Thranduil it was easily the ancient King. He watched Thranduil's eyes become unfocused, clearly deep in thought as they walked. He squeezed the Sinda's hand a bit tighter, leaning in close to kiss his temple. "Worry not of who shall be King and who shall not. For now, let us enjoy what peace we have left."

He smiled as he turned his eyes back to the path, and the great trees that seemed to stretch to the sky. This place was very much like Mirkwood in many respects. He longed for the simpler times, the way things once had been. There had been many times, mostly recently, that Celeborn had regretted his marriage to Galadriel. He had not considered her his companion for the last several centuries as she had grown so cold towards him, and he could not understand why. Perhaps her lust for power had began long ago, before he could notice anything at all.

Celeborn pulled his thoughts away from that part of his past, and what would soon be part of his future. "Tell me, Thranduil... Do you recall when we first met?"

"I do..." Thranduil smiled, remembering his childhood. He had been born amidst the Sack of Doriath, with the Second Kinslaying in full swing and Oropher protecting him with his life. He had met Celeborn when the plains of burnt ground turned to thick grass and the Sindar were on their way to a better life. Thranduil had been no older than five years, Celeborn a few centuries above him but a friendship had developed over the months they spent together. Oropher was looking for a forest to settle in and in their traveling group, Thranduil became acquainted with many folk who looked after him as best they could. He gleefully attached himself to Celeborn, finding familiarity in the starlit silver hair and mature features of one who spent their time in thought rather than action.

"I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you." he stated with a fond nudge to Celeborn's cheek "All young and beautiful yet still so wise..." Restraint wasn't a thing he cared to practice at this moment and gently he kissed behind a slender, pointed ear. "You still hold a firm place within my heart."

Celeborn, too, never forgot that day. He remembered how young and small Thranduil had been, how gleeful and carefree despite all of the hardships his father's people had suffered. He was a bright light in the eyes of many who had seen much pain recently, as he imagined Legolas had been when Thranduil helped bring him into his world. He smiled at Thranduil and laughed. So much had changed between now and then, but Celeborn had also been quietly thoughtful, and wise beyond measure. "You were but a child, my dear Thranduil." He reached out to brush his cheek playfully with his knuckle as they walked slowly alongside one another.

 

"You loved _everyone_." As Thranduil came of age they had spent countless hours together, and a deep friendship turned into love. They were not far apart in age, but Celeborn had always maintained a maturity and stoicness that perhaps drove Thranduil to wish to connect with him, for the other elf had always been young and wild of heart. He felt his body warm as he felt Thranduil's lips to his ear, his cheeks flushing lightly. He remembered the time they had first kissed all those years ago. He could not even remember the first time he kissed his own beloved wife.

He paused in his step and turned to face Thranduil. Celeborn's smile had faded slightly, and he placed his hand gently upon Thranduil's breast. He had always been quite soft-spoken and millennia had not changed this. "There are times I regret decisions I have made in my past, Thranduil, and wondered if I had made different choices, if things would be different. If the world would be a better place. I feel like I have erred, Thranduil, in more ways than I can count..."

Thranduil gazed into Celeborn's eyes, of a soft grey so similar to his own. It was a common colour amongst elves but the distinction and uniqueness Thranduil could sense when he met the gaze of his fellow Sinda meant that Celeborn was truly special to him. Through their gentle contact and understanding, Thranduil listened and offered a few words.

"Your heart is pure and you are not at fault, mellon nín." Not wanting to impose, he didn't step closer but placed both hands over Celeborn's that rested at his chest. "I know you and no matter what your decisions were, in the end it was all just fate. None of us could have stopped this, none had the foresight strong enough to see. Not even the Valar predicted when this day would come." Thranduil knew there was turmoil in Celeborn's kind heart for all the things he had seen and felt responsible for. He was a proper Lord who looked after the wellbeing of his people and home, always so caring and expecting nothing in return. Many elves were thus; born innocent and free, simple creatures of exquisite beauty and pure souls. Celeborn was a shining example of what it meant to truly serve Arda and love all things created equal. He had loved Galadriel, until the day he realised he was nothing to her and she would kill him if he did not obey. In Thranduil's eyes, he was worthy of admiration beyond compare.

Thranduil didn't know he was gazing at Celeborn like a lovestruck elfling until he began to feel warmth deep in his chest. And he sighed, a reassuring smile spreading across his face.

Celeborn appreciated Thranduil's kind and reassuring words more than he would ever know. He inclined his silver head deeply to the King, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. Thranduil's hands were warm and comforting and he pressed their foreheads together as they stood for some time. "Hannon le, Thranduil." He said gently, taking a moment to listen to the silence of the forest and of the trees as a gentle wind picked up and leaves of green and gold that had fallen swirled at their feet.

When he met Thranduil's eyes again, he caught the King's gaze, and Celeborn grinned. Somehow, Thranduil always made him feel young at heart when they were in each other's presence. Sometimes, he could even forget all of his worries when they were together. He ran his thumb tenderly across Thranduil's cheek. "I remember that look." His laughter was like a silver harp on the wind. "Oh, you make me feel young again, Thranduil, when you look at me that way. I feel the butterflies in my belly all over again." Celeborn leaned in to brush his lips against the King's cheek.

"I only hope that you have someone in your life that makes you feel the same way."

"Many are clamouring for the position.." said Thranduil smoothly, eyelashes fluttering at the softness of Celeborn's lips. His cheek turned as his head moved and his own lips made contact with those he spoke against. "If you want for such contact... I am here for you." Easily he wet his lips and parted them to kiss Celeborn, soothing and warm with the taste of sweet nectar and succulent skin. A lovely sigh escaped the Elvenking who was glad to have someone so... entirely unique in this moment. Celeborn was everything Thranduil wanted in one way or another. He did not tease too much, he was intelligent and calm, with a kind spirit and ability to understand the most meta of emotions Thranduil couldn't even begin to decipher within himself. A voice in Thranduil's mind told him that he wished to stay close and develop something beautiful with this elf who had lost everything, yet another spoke of loyalty and unbreakable ties to folk he could not defy. He pushed the thoughts aside. Now was not the time for that.

Celeborn smiled, the tips of their noses brushing briefly together. "I imagine many are. Many always were." He had never been one to openly seek out another. He was never very forward and blatant in any of his movements, and he still remembered how nervous he had been when he had finally worked up the courage to express his feelings to the then Prince. Thinking on it now made his stomach twist in knots. However, when their lips touched all was forgotten and Celeborn found himself leaning into the tender kiss. He reached up to cup Thranduil's neck, sighing softly against his mouth.

"And I imagine many are, even at this very moment." He pulled back slightly, his eyes soft as they gazed upon the King. "If you have been gone for days as you have said, I am certain you have many worried about your wellbeing." He kissed the King again. "I would be loathe to keep you from them longer. Do not fear, my sweet King." Celeborn traced Thranduil's lower lip. "We will see each other again. I promise. Very soon."

Celeborn smiled, the tips of their noses brushing briefly together. "I imagine many are. Many always were." He had never been one to openly seek out another. He was never very forward and blatant in any of his movements, and he still remembered how nervous he had been when he had finally worked up the courage to express his feelings to the then Prince. Thinking on it now made his stomach twist in knots. However, when their lips touched all was forgotten and Celeborn found himself leaning into the tender kiss. He reached up to cup Thranduil's neck, sighing softly against his mouth.

"And I imagine many are, even at this very moment." He pulled back slightly, his eyes soft as they gazed upon the King. "If you have been gone for days as you have said, I am certain you have many worried about your wellbeing." He kissed the King again. "I would be loathe to keep you from them longer. Do not fear, my sweet King." Celeborn traced Thranduil's lower lip. "We will see each other again. I promise. Very soon."

Celeborn caught Thranduil's farewell and held it to his chest in acceptance, inclining his head before pressing once last kiss to the King's lips before he watched him turn and leave in a flutter of elegant robes and hair kissed by the sun. His heart ached as he watched the King go and turned to make his way back to his own people. They would need to develop a plan for the coming war, and their Lord was expected to take part. He would see Thranduil again, very soon. He knew that deep in his heart and it gave him the power to continue onward, for Thranduil had proved to be one bright spot in a world shrouded by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering: I have an entire backstory for both Thranduil and Oropher (see: fleeing Doriath with some Sindar, one of them was Celeborn) and whatever happened to make them the way they are now is a constant. No changing backstories for the sake of keks. Gotta be legit, u feel?


	24. 4-12 : MOAR Valinor Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written Feb 11 2015 to Feb 15. Yes. Four days. 9,692 words.

Legolas stood, wine glass still in hand, which he nearly dropped upon sight of a familiar figure down below. He practically tossed it upon the table as he raced down to meet Thranduil. Oropher's guards were somewhere nearby, he was certain, and he was not completely certain where Oropher had gotten off to. They hadn't said a word since they had last parted and Legolas figured it was probably best.

He had changed his clothes to a black tunic embroidered in golden leaves, his leggings a dark green. As always, Legolas was dressed to travel, refusing to take any enjoyment in donning robes that he found cumbersome and clumsy. His golden hair was loose and he wore no circlet upon his head. He had never liked the thing anyways. His eyes lit up upon sight of his father, and all anger that he had harbored had been pushed aside, for now at least. " _Adar_!" he called with a smile, racing down the stairs and plummeting towards Thranduil, his arms outstretched.

Thranduil reacted quickly as he'd expected Legolas to have missed him - and was far too pleased with the sight of his son as a shimmering, radiant figure of pure joy. He threw himself right back at Legolas and their bodies collided, arms wrapping like leather straps on secure armor to ensure they would never become lost again.

"Oh, Legolas..." he breathed, squeezing the Prince with a beaming smile "You're even more beautiful than I remember. My precious little leaf." Now that he had his sight back, he relished in seeing everything. The flecks of sapphire in a sea of sky blue that were his son's bright eyes, the perfect smoothness of his skin with not a hair to be seen at all. His hair like the rays of the sun itself, warm and golden. And his body... Thranduil peeped over Legolas's shoulder and caught a glimpse of his butt in traditionally tight elven leggings, the kind that you could hunt in but not sit still in for long. Damn, he was fiiiiine.

"Le melin." he whispered, nuzzling his son's ear. He wanted their connection back.

Legolas nearly lost his breath at the force in which he threw himself at his father's arms, wrapped tightly around his neck as he buried his face in Thranduil's hair. He inhaled the scent and suddenly, all felt well in the world, even though it was far from it in more ways than the Prince realized. When they pulled back, Legolas' eyes scanned Thranduil's face, his own still beaming as he touched it, his fingers moving across his fair features; his brows, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. All seemed intact and well, but Legolas just wanted to make certain. "And I you..." He breathed softly, pressing their noses together and nuzzling him for a moment.

"Na vedui." Finally. It had been weeks and Legolas' heart had ached like it never had ached before. He reached down to take his hand. "I was so worried, meleth nin. It has been weeks and I went searching for you every day... None had seen you."

"Weeks?" Thranduil was shocked, and thought to himself that time must have passed differently due to him being in a different dimension. "I only felt gone for a few days... Had I known, I would have returned to you sooner." Holding Legolas's hand felt just as it had always been; something that connected them together physically and emotionally.

 "Have you been well in my absence? Your mother not troubling you? My father not trying to rip you apart?" Thranduil nipped at Legolas's bottom lip to punctuate the fact that only he could do that. He had worried for Legolas but Melkor had treated him so well that it was all too easy to forget about his life and sink into the Dark Lord's embrace. Melkor knew Thranduil was a sucker for anyone who treated him like a child deserving to be spoilt and loved. Something like that, anyway.

Thranduil's entire focus was upon Legolas and did not waver, not for a second. There was true happiness in his eyes, their grey-green depths twinkling like stars beneath a lake.

Legolas' smile curved downwards into a slight frown. Thranduil obviously had no true concept of how long he had been gone. His eyes moved over his father's face, scrutinizing and careful, yet soft and gentle all the same. He wanted to ask him where he had been, where he had gone, but part of him was fearful of the answer. Part of him did not wish to even know. Now was not the time and place to ask; even Legolas knew that.

"Naneth left..." There was a gentle inhale of breath as Thranduil's teeth found his lower lip and his dark lashes fluttered shut as he shivered. The way they touch was familiar. Even without their mind connection, Thranduil knew exactly how to touch the Prince, where he was most sensitive, and just how he liked it. Mostly. Oropher had unlocked something deep and disturbing within him that Legolas still didn't truly understand. Upon mentioned of Oropher trying to rip him apart, his cheeks turned a darker red, as did the tips of his ears. It had been quite the other way around. "No. All has been well here, Adar. Quiet. Very quiet."

He leaned in close to catch Thranduil's mouth in a deep kiss, his fingers dancing lightly over his throat. "We have both missed you terribly."

"Ooohnnn.." Thranduil moaned softly into the kiss, suddenly realising that he had in fact been weeks without proper sex. Of course Legolas would set his need aflame and then tease him into a bundle of nerves. "Well, I am back now.." he breathed as their lips parted, Thranduil wondering briefly if Legolas could taste Celeborn on him but not worrying too much. His own fingers flitted about the Prince's slim figure and pinched the softness of Legolas's ass, before massaging up and down. "You and I will be able to spend as much time as we like with each other. Leave the war to my father. He can handle it."

Legolas made absolutely not mention for now that he had every intention on joining this war, as he had every other he had been able to. He had a warrior's spirit at heart, and after Oropher showed him the horrors of what was currently occurring in Arda, he knew he could not back down. He promised Oropher he would not. He nuzzled his nose lightly beneath Thranduil's jaw, trailing his lips down the King's throat before looking up at him. Legolas could always very easily be persuaded into sex, no matter what, really. And it had been so long since his father had been in his arms.

"You are surprisingly clean for all your wandering..." Legolas murmured softly against him. "But perhaps you would join me for a bath?"

"Gladly." said Thranduil with a smile, moving aside to walk with Legolas up into the trees where the guards looked relieved to see Thranduil back in one piece. A friendly smile ghosted across the King's lips as he passed those he had known during his time here, and the palace didn't seem to have changed a single bit.

"How have you been coping for all these... weeks?" he asked out of curiosity, a side look towards Legolas indicating personal interest. Legolas was just as sexually active as Thranduil (or so he liked to think) with needs that couldn't be ignored for long. Thranduil wanted to know how his son had managed.

Legolas kept their fingers interlaced as they moved through the trees together. His mind raced with what had happened to him these past few weeks. Strangely, nothing about Thranduil seemed different that he could place. But still, the connection in their minds severed and Legolas was almost afraid to ask to reconnect, fearing he would learn something that would complicate things further. He preferred, at this moment in time, to live in blissful ignorance. For now, his beloved was safe and in one piece, his face beautiful, glowing, and happier than he had seen in some time.

As they moved through the halls of Thranduil's house towards the baths, the Prince knew exactly what his father referred to. "Coping?" He feigned innocence for the moment before they entered the baths. Steam filled the air and Legolas was glad for it, hoping it would hide any suspicions that might be aroused for blood filled his cheeks and tinged them even darker. He began to unlace his tunic slowly before shrugging it off of his shoulders. "Well enough. My worry for your safety stifled some of those..." He kicked his boots off. "Urges." Now, that wasn't entirely untrue. Legolas loathed the idea of having to lie to his father. It wasn't until quite recently that he had explored any urges at all, and when he had, Legolas' own world had been split in half and the ground trembled so hard he could barely stand upon it.

Legolas turned away and slipped out of his leggings, running his hands through his hair before he shot a glance back at Thranduil with a smirk, his voice playful. "Sex isn't all I think about, you know."

"Could have fooled me." Thranduil grinned and undressed, leaving his robes stacked neatly atop Legolas's clothes with leggings spread so they wouldn't crinkle. He moved to take off Melkor's necklace but paused. The memory of those cool fingers by his skin, fixing the clasp he was now going to undo came back to him. He did not know why he hesitated, but somehow this felt wrong.

The King didn't want to make Legolas suspicious. Valar knows what would happen when they reconnected! It was not the time for worries and such now. Thranduil unhooked the clasp at the back of the necklace and did his best to ignore the odd feeling that swept through him. _No no. Relax. There is nothing to feel. Smile, and step into the water._

And so he did.

Melkor could feel when Thranduil removed the necklace from his throat, and his vision had become clouded with steam. If the King continued to interfere with his sight he would make it known to him verbally, but within Thranduil's mind, in the darkness, the jewel called to him. Soft, whispered voices in a language he could not understand. Always listening, always watching.

Legolas moved into the water and turned to watch Thranduil follow suit. His eyes moved over the King's body and gladly made note that it was smooth and pale as it had always been. No suspicious injuries or marks. He waded through the warm water to press a kiss to Thranduil's lips, his hands moving through his father's hair.

Thranduil's breath faltered at their kiss, just as he felt a strong need peak and plateau within him. His eyes flicked to the necklace and within his mind he wanted to take it. Have its warmth contact his skin and make the longing go away. This was an odd feeling he experienced, akin to separation anxiety and prodded by murmuring voices that called his attention away from his son.

"So tell me, Adar... Did you explore all of Aman on your quests and see the wild wonders of the world?" The Prince licked his lips.

"Mm..." a low hum came from the back of Thranduil’s throat throat and he snaked his fingers around Legolas's waist. "I have, ah.. not looked much at the forests and lands beyond the mountains... It is very grey, and dark... and quiet. I merely meditated in peace a while." Yes, atop Melkor's head with strange blades of grass and magical flames about. He wasn't going to explain that last part.

Legolas could sense the distraction in the air, taste it upon Thranduil's lips as he had always been very attuned to these things. But he said nothing, pressing a trail of kisses along Thranduil's jaw and a final one against his ear as he rested his chin upon the King's shoulder, sighing softly.

Yes, something was different, and Legolas hated not knowing what. Thranduil had made no mention regarding their connection and honestly, the Prince hadn't a clue about how to repair something that had been torn apart so suddenly. He had ached from it every day since it had happened, a weak, dull pain that was insistent; nothing seemed to numb it. There had been a time, when he was with Oropher, that he had forgotten it completely, though the next morning he had felt it, even stronger than before.

It bothered him that he had his own secrets to hide, not wishing to hurt Thranduil and not wishing to drive him away. But it was difficult to keep them buried in deep. He comforted himself with the King's closeness for now, the familiar feeling of strong arms around his waist and a shoulder at the perfect height for him to rest upon.

"I had hoped that you would only be gone a few hours, but, I suppose you lost track of time, like you said."

"Yes.." Thranduil's head tilted to touch Legolas's and he leaned into every point of contact they shared. Unlike the Prince, Thranduil did not feel the prickly ends of a torn connection raking at his conscience every second of the day. He had someone in his mind. Melkor.

"I am sorry for being parted from you for so long. But you understand due to the circumstances I just had to leave..." His voice trailed off, soft and regretful. "I never want to leave you... my precious little son."

 It was more himself who he talked to than Legolas - Thranduil's hand stroked up and down Legolas's back as the other remained secure around his waist. A little whine came from within him, and Thranduil turned his head to nuzzle Legolas affectionately. He was beginning to feel what he had done had hurt them both. And he could not fathom why. Why it had been so easy to agree with Melkor. Why it had taken so long to get back. Why he had dallied and not worried as much as he should. Why Legolas had been off his mind... out of his thoughts.

Legolas closed his eyes, finding the feeling of Thranduil's hand running up and down the length of his spine comforting, but his words, strangely not. Something felt false. Perhaps it was all within Legolas' mind, the stories he had created about why he had gone, why he had not returned. His fingers curled absently in Thranduil's long locks, feeling the silky tendrils beneath the water and breathing in softly his scent.

"Please do not leave me again, Adar. I do not know what I would do if you were parted from me thus. Never had I felt so alone, and so cold..."

 _'He suspects something, little one. Do you not feel it in how he holds you? How he touches you? He does not understand yet what it is and he is too afraid to tell you.'_ came a voice deep within the recesses of Thranduil's brain.

Legolas pulled back slightly to rest his forehead against the King's meeting his eyes. His fingertips moved across Thranduil's face, pushing his lips up slightly into a smile as he had done to Oropher the day before to force the King to smile. "My mind went to dark places and I do not wish to go back to them."

Thranduil smiled but it was a saddened and understanding one. He did it for Legolas, but deep in his mind he could hear Melkor's voice and was given a truthful insight on the current situation. Legolas was not easy to fool when it came to matters of the heart. He was well in touch with his feelings and expressed them like everyone's business.

Thranduil could not promise his son safety from the darkness, for he himself was now a part of it in a way that would grow and come to consume him in time. Slowly but surely it would happen, and there would be none who dared to save him. Or at least he thought.

"Let us agree to never leave each other without warning again. I took my mind's advice but forgot my heart." said Thranduil with a knowing look "Do I have your forgiveness and trust once more?"

Legolas pressed his hand above his own heart in promise before moving it to rest above the King's breast, feeling the steady thrum of his head. He inclined his head gently, sapphire eyes gazing up at his father. "It is agreed, then."

He leaned in close and brushed his lips over the King's, his thumbs brushing innocently from his high cheekbones to his ears as he breathed against Thranduil's mouth. "You shall always have my forgiveness. Each and every time."

It was true. Who was he to deny the other half of his soul that? Certainly he had been angry in the past, felt betrayed, and hurt. Even now, some of it still lingered, for he truly did not understand what Thranduil had gone through, and even then, if he did, he did not know what he would think.

"Ooh..." Thranduil shivered as arousal woke within him, the forgiveness of his son sending warmth to the core of his heart. His ears reddened with a blush just as his cheeks did, and he quickly swept his tongue across his rose pink lips. He saw no reason to hold back and pushed forth with his whole body, kissing open-mouthed all the way along Legolas's neck. This taste was what he had missed. What he wanted, what he loved.

One hand took Legolas and adjusted their position so the Prince was somewhat in his father's lap. The hot water swirled and foamed a little with the movement, Thranduil's hair stuck to his glistening back and his eyebrows danced with mirth.

"I still owe you a favour..." Thranduil murmured, remembering what he had promised his son weeks ago "Or have you forgotten?"

Legolas murmured something incoherent in approval as Thranduil's mouth trailed down his neck, leaving trails of warmth and fire across his flesh. His body reacted in an instant, for Thranduil knew just how to play him. He was a musician and the Prince his instrument. His hands moved into the water to sweep over his father's slender waist and his abdomen, his mouth hungrily finding his mark once again.

When he pulled back, his pale cheeks and ears were scarlet, his eyes darkening. "A favor?" Legolas breathed, his chest already moving faster with a bit of shallow breathing. He turned his body so he could press his body against Thranduil's ribs, allowing the King to feel his arousal. "Remind me, for I know your word is always good and true." He smirked wickedly. "There have been cobwebs that have formed in my mind in your absence. Do you care to clear them for me, meleth?"

"I do recall... the first time we slipped into these baths you had given me the honour of having your fingers comb through my hair. You had done me a wonderful service... thus, deserving a reward. Anything you wished." Thranduil remembered clearly the light banter about servitude and hairdressing, along with many soft kisses and the threat that Legolas would take what he wished at the time and place Thranduil least expected. The thought terrified and aroused the dignified King greatly. He had only dreamed that week of Legolas pressing him up against a wall and fucking him so hard he was drilled into the tree.

He pressed his semi erect length to Legolas's stomach, before settling back down in a comfortable, lounging position.

"I daresay my presence belongs in your mind, to keep you from forgetting."

"Ahh, of course." Legolas had purred, reaching to stroke Thranduil's length slowly, his eyes trailing off into the distance. "A reward I would take at a time and place of mine own choosing." He ran his lips down Thranduil's throat, peppering soft kisses to the nape of his pale next as his cheeks flushed brighter, and his arousal grew harder still. What he had wanted is what he had given Oropher. But the King's words echoed in his mind, haunted him in a way. If he hurt Thranduil he would have hell to pay. And secretly, Legolas feared his grandfather's wrath. Thranduil was nearly as precious to Oropher as he was to Legolas.

What he would not give to claim Thranduil's body in that way, the way the King had claimed his son time and time again. For one small moment to exert true dominance over the other that held his heart, to show him what was truly in his own; his power, his quality. His lips paused and Legolas sat up straight in the King's lap. "I would.." He shook his head as a frown took over his fair features, his eyes drifting to the surface of the water. "I would not wish to hurt you. Perhaps I shall claim my prize at a later date." If ever.

 _'You are not the only one with secrets, lirimaer...'_ came that cold voice again, tinged with shadow and flame.

Thranduil shivered with the combined voice in his mind and stroke to his length. He was fully erect and breathing shallowly but heard the hesitation of concealed desire in Legolas's voice.

_‘Well, shit. I don't know what he wants...’_

"Something troubles you." Thranduil brought his lips to Legolas's ear and traced them over the edge, his tongue darting out for a long and sensual lick. "Ohh, would you like to speak of it within our minds? I want to know what you desire most of all from me." Thranduil would wish he hadn't said that all too soon.

Legolas' eyes darted to meet Thranduil's and his hand stilled. There was a small flicker of fear in his eyes, barely readable, which he was careful to conceal quickly. The thought of connecting their minds again made his stomach twist in knots. He was fearful of what he might find out, what the King might find out about him. He was worried about Thranduil's disgust... his fear... abandonment.

"I..." If he denied him the King would suspect something, if he did not already. "How? How do we do that again?" The shredded pieces of his mind ached to connect to their other half but still, Legolas was hesitant. The lick to his ear made him shudder hard.

"I will do what you wish of me."

Thranduil suckled at Legolas's ear as he thought, with a low moan from his lips. How did one form a connection without the rite, blood as sex? It should be easy, now that they were this close once more. Melkor had a place in Thranduil's mind however and he hoped there was enough room for both him and Legolas. And of course, Thranduil's remaining sanity.

He nibbled the tip of Legolas's ear and massaged the back of his head, slim fingers tangled in liquid gold hair.

"Reach out to me... and I will reach to you."

Legolas could not stifle a moan, and even in his fear and concern about what this might all bring, he was still fully aroused. That little detail disturbed him, but only slightly. He arched his neck, revealing more pale flesh to the King's mouth as his fingers tightened around Thranduil's length, stroking a little harder.

He closed his eyes then, pressing their foreheads together as he reached, hesitantly, towards the King, blindly, fingers grasping at his mind, shaking, trembling...

Melkor remained deep inside, pleased, though not so certain of the outcome. What he did know, was that when Legolas would start to piece things together, he would be none too pleased.

Thranduil groaned loudly and threw his head back, the spark of their connection reigniting and becoming fused together like pieces of a weapon being welded. Thranduil's mind was open and Legolas was drawn in, just as he could sit comfortably in Legolas's mind and read what unguarded thoughts he possessed. He did not probe for now, wanting his son to settle in where he deserved to be.

Thranduil's length throbbed in Legolas's hand and it was pulsing hot beneath the water, shooting desire all through the King's body. He pushed himself closer; he wanted to sheathe himself within his son and further join them...

Legolas was mindful to keep any thoughts he did not wish Thranduil to read carefully guarded. Mainly regarding any feelings towards Oropher or what had occurred the night before. He knew that if he had not been careful, he would not be able to show Thranduil his body. Oropher bore countless marks from teeth and nail from that night, but the King would likely never lay eyes upon his bare form. The feeling of their minds becoming one once more caused the Prince to shudder. He felt whole again but something felt different far different. For now, Melkor was silent. But there was a sensation that they were being listened to and Legolas was unnerved.

Feeling Thranduil press against him, Legolas' eyes fluttered shut again as he pressed their lips together, dragging his rear along the King's thighs until his buttocks came into contact with his arousal.

"I am yours to wield..." He whispered softly.

Thranduil's thighs were slick and soft as they parted, one hand supporting Legolas's butt as he positioned him properly.

"Shall I stretch you, iôn nín?" he murmured with a cheeky smirk "Or would you like me to take you just like this, as hard as I please?"

_"I will wield you like I wield a sword.. with a fierce grip and no mercy."_

He clutched Legolas by his hair and rear end at once, using the side of the bath to brace himself lest they slip beneath the water.

His lips attacked Legolas's neck, biting down to mark him with bright red that wouldn't fade too quickly. Sucking and nibbling there he inhaled the lovely sweet scent of this flesh he had missed touching and tasting. Moans and gasps spilled from his mouth as he was almost desperate to share in these pleasures for the first time in so long. Yes. Weeks, days. They were far too long for Thranduil.

Legolas' fingers gripped Thranduil's shoulders, feeling the soft skin like silk and muscle like steel beneath his fingertips as he felt the head of the King's arousal press against him, waiting for the Prince's approval that it was fine to enter. He would only need to decide how, exactly, and Legolas' eyes were dark as his nails urged him carefully, gently. There was hesitation in how he touched Thranduil, trying to position himself without being too forceful, too forthcoming.

"Like this..." He gasped softly, tugging the King closer and already beginning to seat himself upon his father. "It has been too long."

He groaned aloud, long and low as Thranduil's mouth moved over his throat, his hair spilling over the side of the bath and curling around their bodies in the water like tendrils of molten gold. Legolas was impatient, as he had always been, and relaxed himself enough to sheath himself atop the King, his sounds deep and guttural.

"Saes..." He begged aloud, already beginning to move his own hips, opening himself to Thranduil and begging a deeper claim.

"Oh you _are_ eager, aren't you..?" Thranduil noticed the slight hesitation in which Legolas pleaded him to move - normally there would be a bit of force and Legolas would get his father to do whatever he wanted, quickly. But it seemed as if the Prince had discovered some great power within himself and was concentrating on holding back.

Thranduil did not hold back and thrust beneath the water so hard that a splash came between their bodies, followed by several more. He began to fuck Legolas up and outwards, feeling the motions reciprocated and everything sliding against his body with slick, wet sounds.

"Mm, you like that?" he groaned, leaning his head to where Legolas's hair spread and feeling it splayed over his chest. How he loved the delicate silken texture and rich colour of it! His eyes drank in the beautiful sight of his son, only furthering his arousal with how much he could see.

It felt so incredible to be filled thusly, and Legolas then realized how deeply he ached for Thranduil. He wanted to be completely possessed by him, and he allowed himself to relinquish a bit of the control he had held close to his chest, his body slamming down upon him hard as the water was disturbed all around them. A string of curses spilled from his lips as Legolas rode the King like he would urge a horse into battle, his hands tightening about him as though fearful he would fall if he would let go.

" _He wants it harder than you give him now. Claim him and help quench the fire that burns deep inside. Possess him and remind him of who he belongs to."_ There was Melkor's voice again, urging the King. It was so soft that it was almost difficult for Thranduil to hear. So much so, that Legolas thought it was his own thought, for it spilled the contents of his mind that he thought he had so carefully guarded.

 _"Yes…"_ Melkor's voice blended with Thranduil's own thought and spurred him to action. He worked at marking Legolas's skin all over, absolutely everywhere, his mouth hungry and gasping as it latched on to pale, delicious skin. Thranduil thrust into Legolas with a mighty need over and over with one hand gripping the edge of the bath so that they did not drown. He knew Legolas burned for him, how strong the ache felt for it was within him too. In his mind, in his loins, in his soul.

"Legolas.." he growled, "You are mine. All mine." Thranduil would never share his beloved son with anybody. This body was his to claim, for was it not also part of his own? Not only did he feel entitled to Legolas he craved such possession one would think him mad. The Prince's heart belonged to him. His body now too. All Legolas owned entirely was his mind, and soon Thranduil would take that too. Or at least he hoped so.

Soon, all Legolas could feel was their joined pleasure and lust. It was almost impossible to distinguish one thought from another, one touch, one limb, one movement; the belonged to each elf and both elf. The Prince was marked and possessed as he so claimed, their bodies moving in a frantic, sensual unison as though they sought to truly join and bond right then and there. The baths were filled with their soft cries, Legolas' groans, and the soft splashes of water as it lapped the sides of the bath.

"All yours, meleth nin..." He hissed through a clenched jaw, his body beginning to tense as his release began to build, his hand working at his own throbbing length. There was no reason to draw this out; he wanted Thranduil to find his release in him, finally completely claim his body as Legolas' mind would fall to his release and the King's wiles.

 _"And you are mine..."_ came a voice in Thranduil's mind, one of dark possession, deep and filled with lust.

In that moment, everything blended together. Thranduil acutely felt the sense of possession of both obtaining it and having it thrown upon him. Yet it was not something he wanted to fight - he wanted to fall into it and just let himself become part of a new hierarchy in his world. Legolas beneath him, Melkor atop him. The briefest image of an odd threesome flashed in his mind but it was gone in a second, replaced by bursts of white as he spilled himself in thick streams deep within his son.

He groaned then, long and loud as his body trembled all over. Thranduil's hand smacked Legolas on the ass and despite it being cushioned by the water it contacted the Prince's skin with a strong pressure and flattened dat ass with a fierce grope following.

Legolas quickly followed suit when he felt Thranduil spill himself deep inside his body, and he could see stars behind his closed eyelids as the world seemed to explode and fall apart around them. He came hard with a trembling cry, his muscles tightening and his fingers digging in deep as though he wished to separate the muscles from the King's shoulders. He rode the waves of passion with his father, and his fell forward upon Thranduil's shoulder, breathing heavily as he attempted to calm himself. He would ache come morning, and he would savor that feeling of being possessed, of his body belonging to another as he so deeply desired.

"That..." He finally managed to breathe as he pressed his lips against Thranduil's neck. "That is how it is supposed to be."

Thranduil groaned in quiet agreement and felt as if he would melt into the water. Possessing Legolas was one thing Thranduil had always wanted to do fully and completely. He knew of his son's charming nature that could bring anyone into his bed, but Thranduil would not want Legolas to have anyone other than him. Since the Prince seemed to like being taken in this way, Thranduil was only too happy to oblige. He would remind Legolas at every opportunity just who he belonged to.

Thranduil's hand pressed to the nape of Legolas's neck and gently began to stroke, just as it always did when they were in this position. Legolas leaning on Thranduil with his face in his neck, legs spread out and delicious warm contact beneath each other. It had always been this way.

This felt right. All of it. The way he was positioned in Thranduil's lap as he felt the King softening inside his body. The Prince was not about to release him just yet. Legolas nibbled Thranduil's throat gently as he pressed their lips together, hands moving lightly along his temples to stroke his thick, wet hair.

"Never leave me again..." He said softly. They had promised to never leave one another without saying so, but deep within Legolas feared that the King would slip away. He did not know why, for he did not mistrust Thranduil. But something was different here, and he wondered if his father felt it.

"Never." Thranduil echoed quietly in promise to stay by his son's side forever. Mere months ago he had said those very same words to Legolas, drunkenly pleading the night he returned from his adventures with the Fellowship. Now it was agreed. They would stay together. No matter what.

Thranduil loved when his son touched him in this sweet, gentle manner. It had been like this since Legolas was an elfling - always close, always touching, and just the two of them. The King took pride in being his son's favourite companion. He had conditioned him to love and forever would it be so.

Legolas pulled back slightly to nuzzle their noses together before he finally allowed Thranduil to slip from his body. He felt a slight emptiness, but that was to be expected. Never again would he allow his father to slip from his loving embrace, or at least he hoped. No other would hold the King's heart as his son did, for that hope Legolas clung to as well. He did not notice how clearly Thranduil looked at him now, having regained his full sight, but still gazed lovingly into his eyes all the same.

"Then it is decided... You shall never leave my sight." He murmured with a gentle smile.

_"And never shall you leave mine."_

Legolas looked at Thranduil then, frowning slightly. It was not his father's voice that spoke to him thus. It had to be though, for it sounded different.

Thranduil had a hazy look of slight derp on his face, thinking of Melkor watching over him with protection and safety rather than absolute domination. Melkor had promised him certain things, after all. And he had not hurt him.

The King looked at his son and realised he had probably heard that, now that their minds were one and the same... with a third party listening in. He smiled sheepishly and stared into Legolas's beautiful blue eyes, adjusting their position so the Prince could sit in his soft lap comfortably.

He said nothing, though considered the words. Legolas would not let him go. Neither would Melkor. Was he owned? And if truly, by whom?

Legolas slid slowly from his father's lap, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before moving from the water to dry off. He kept his back to the King as he began to dress, trying to figure out what had just happened. The third listener he felt within their minds was stronger now, but slowly began to quiet down. There was apparently much Thranduil had not told him. But he said nothing regarding it, for he housed his own secrets. His father was his everything, but there simply were some things he did not wish to share with him. Thranduil was a grown elf, and likely had some things he did not wish to share with Legolas. Perhaps it was all in the Prince's mind, and he swallowed the large pill of suspicion and doubt for now.

When he had dressed and composed his features, he turned to allow Thranduil to see his face. He offered a soft smile, though it was a little hesitant.

He extended his hand to his father. "I am still curious where you wandered off to to meditate, Adar. Allow me to dress you?"

Thranduil took Legolas's hand as he came out of the bath and nodded in allowance of the offer. He loved having people dress him, serve him and attend to his hair. It made him feel so regal and loved!

"I would like something other than the clothes I came here in." said Thranduil, taking a nearby towel and running it over the top of his head to dry his hair. "Do send for some, iôn."

Inwardly he wondered about Melkor, then remembered the necklace. He picked it up and clasped it around his neck without thought and it laid against his chest with the familiar warmth pulsing to the beat of his heart. Like an eye blinked as it became embedded in his flesh. His mind traveled far as he once again became lost in deep thoughts of darkness and love, of how long he could keep his secrets close and his son closer.

Legolas had called for one of Oropher's servants to fetch some fresh silks for his father, and told the young elf to alert the King of Thranduil's return. He nodded and came back swiftly with robes of the softest silks, of vibrants reds and rich silvers, embroidered with leaves reminiscent of Mirkwood. They were, for lack of better words, fit for the Elvenking in all of his pomp and splendour.

He did not see the necklace, but turned to him once he had gathered the clothing in his arms. Legolas moved to Thranduil and handed him his leggings as he began to drape the heavy robes over his shoulders. His eyes moved to the clothing Thranduil had come in. It was not what he had left in. Legolas lovingly moved his long hair side aside and behind him, down his back as he began to fasten the front of his robes. "There... now you are beginning to remind me of my father once more." He smiled at the King.

But deep within something told Legolas that he knew better than that.

Thranduil smiled at that, appreciating the choice in robes and flouncing about in his finery once Legolas had dressed him. His leggings were of the right tightness and these silks reminded him of home. Home as it had been, anyway.

"I have always been your father, even with half a face and strange clothes." he whispered and spun around, delighting in the swirl of his robes around his ankles yet noticing the length of its train was slightly less than he was used to. The length of robes was used among the Sindar and Silvan to denote rank; Legolas could wear a few inches along the ground, Thranduil usually wore several meters and Oropher practically had a glittering emerald pool following him around wherever he went. Thranduil knew now just how set Oropher was in remaining the King, even going so far as to have specific clothes set out for him. Everyone here was of different size and had their own tailor made clothes. Thranduil looked more like a 'highness' than 'majesty.'

While Legolas understood the intricacies that went into selecting and creating a garment for each member of the royal family that denoted status, the Prince hardly ever really even wore his robes for he cared not about displaying himself as such. He had his own regal air about him, but it was kind, generous, and good-natured. Robes got in the way, and Legolas became annoyed easily by the excess fabric.

Thranduil pulled his mind from the intricacies of royal life and flipped his hair over his shoulder, an extravagant hand gesture inviting Legolas to come with him.

"What shall we occupy ourselves with now, hm?"

Legolas took Thranduil's hand and grinned at him. Yes, there had been a time when Thranduil had half a face. He was still his father all the same, still his beloved Adar. Legolas did not fear him as many of his servants had. He would hold his hand and touch his face and call him beautiful all the same. He had been so young then, fearless, even more so than he was now. Thranduil could do no wrong in his eyes.

"I daresay you have been missing your favorite wine, Adar, and your sweet treats." There was not much here Legolas cared to occupy himself with. While he had explored Oropher's home it still did not feel like Mirkwood. There were no targets to practice upon nor places to wander and explore in these days of late while they were on the brink of war. In honesty, Legolas had spent much of his time staring out the window like some forlorn lovesick elfling.

"Ah yes! I also would like my most favourite treat by my side..." Thranduil fondly booped Legolas on the nose with his index finger and walked as they held hands out into the hallway. "You are sweeter and more delicious than anything." And that was a serious compliment, for Thranduil was practically in love with his food and wine.

There were many places they could stay, large open sitting rooms and high intricately carved balconies with benches and sofas everywhere. For the house of a guy who did nothing but stand around and look menacing, there sure were a lot of places to relax.

The King and Prince would not get many more chances to do so once the war began.

The Valar were crafting weapons for each and every elf using their knowledge and power for the greatest advantage possible. They knew each elf as if they were their own creation. And those elves would be going in a few days back to Arda, beginning their journey from the West to East to purge evil from the lands.

Legolas grinned at the loving and fond gestures his father bestowed on him. They were often reserved for times of peace when they often found enjoyment in one another. The walked arm and in arm into the grand living space that overlooked a vast, railingless balcony with a view of the beautiful lake of turquoise water in the distance. There were various sofas and armchairs here to relax in. Legolas moved to the table set with wine and glasses, the table filled with fruits and sweet. He poured his father a glass, then filled his own.

"I have always wondered, Adar, why your father has so many places to relax in his home when he is the only one living here? I have never seen him use them... least of all even so much as sit down. Ever." Legolas took a long draw from his glass, savoring the sweetness on his tongue. "Even if he expected us to come along, we are just two elves. He could practically host a small party here." But Oropher did not seem like the party type. Far from it, rather.

"I am fairly sure he does not sit because of a long stick up his ass, courtesy of Gil-Galad." Thranduil murmured, remembering the day he and Oropher had gotten drunk a few years before the war and the phrase 'his sword was long, his lance was keen' had taken on an entirely different meaning. Ah, those were the days. When the King had been arrogant and drank his worries away just like Thranduil was beginning to do. "He has been here for some three thousand years, I do think his people built the palace around him in hopes that some day he would awaken and fall into the majestic lifestyle they expected of him." Oropher had told Thranduil many things during the week they had been together. Chiefly, of all he had done since he'd died.. which was just finding a place up in the trees where nobody would disturb him and staying there somewhat comatose forever.

Thranduil sat himself on a fluffy sofa with many cushions in shades of spring leaves, taking a glass of wine into his hand and a little biscuit in the other.

"You don't want to see him party like we did back in Mirkwood. He goes _insane_."

Legolas raised a brow at this, watching Thranduil over the rim of his glass. He almost choked when he realized the King's meaning. Stick up his ass was likely literal and Legolas flushed a bright scarlet at the memories of the other night. "You took part in parties... together?" Legolas could barely believe his ears.

Honestly he could not even imagine if insane described it properly. In fact, he was absolutely curious. It had been so difficult to get a sound from Oropher's lips, and it likely took a good bit of alcohol to make the ancient King feel a damned thing. The part where Oropher had told Legolas that he had killed a man with his cock once seemed to resonate within the Prince.

"Perhaps it is best we do not bring out that side of him..." He muttered softly.

Thranduil chuckled softly and drank from his glass.

"Mmm, it was hilarious the last time it happened. You know Solas, the advisor I used to talk to a lot near the end of the Second Age? Adar was grinding against him nude and telling him what a beautiful little kitten he was. Solas nearly died." Quiet giggles erupted from Thranduil as he remembered that night, one glorious evening during the midsummer festival where everyone was too drunk to recall a thing save for a select few who were likely scarred and aroused by the events that took place. Thranduil's memories were hazy, but he could still picture Oropher streaking through the forest in delight with several smashed elves hanging from his upper body. Shit was cray.

"I wonder when you and I might next get a chance to celebrate?" Thranduil mused, chewing on his biscuit in thought.

Legolas nearly choked on his wine. Again. He could not even imagine that Oropher, the elf who was perfectly collected, cool, and schooled. Legolas had seen Thranduil get to that point once or twice, but he truly could not imagine Oropher allowing himself to get quite so... out of control. "Gods, I am certain he would have died. I cannot even begin to imagine..." He shook his head, snorting softly.

He took another sip from his glass and looked at Thranduil, moving to sit beside him. "You and I celebrate? If I recall, the last time we did just that, it ended up in disaster on my end and to us hardly speaking for... weeks." Legolas could still recall the unnerving feeling he had with the elf, whose name he could not recall, in the tent. Thranduil and Legolas had gone off to taste their own pleasures and the Prince had come back so humiliated that he drank himself into a stupor and slept in Thranduil's bed for several days straight.

"But I do know how you love a good party, Adar..." Legolas smiled despite himself. "And I would not be one to deny you that. I'm afraid it will be a bit quieter than the ones you were used to in Mirkwood."

"Some day we will have time for partying and such. I do believe we have more pressing matters just around the corner..." Thranduil swirled his wine around in the glass as he spoke. "I have been informed that we will be marching to war fairly soon. This is either the end of the world or a victorious new beginning."

Thranduil's foresight hadn't told him much (it never really did) and as a result he didn't know what the war was going to be like. He'd heard stories of the prophecy for Dagor Dagorath, but had never expected to be a part of it. It was the fate of all elves, apparently. The King really just wanted to stay here with his family and drink as much as he liked, lounge around and be comfortable. Clearly, life had other plans.

Legolas knew that they would all be off to war once again; for now, the time of peace for the Elves was over. Legolas had promised Oropher that he would join in battle, for he knew he could not sit idly by on the sidelines as that was not the type of elf he was. The Prince sipped at his glass and reached to refill his father's. His own legs were crossed leisurely and his eyes moved to the opening on the balcony, watching the wind pick up at the leaves of the trees start to overturn as though they were expecting rain.

"Sooner than I would like." Legolas said softly with a frown. He traced the rim of his glass with his finger. His eyes moved to gaze at the King. "But we have no choice one way or another. If we do nothing, we shall have no say when the world decides to crumble on its own. I saw the elves of Lorien marching back and forth through here these past few days, donning armor that glittered like the moonlight and weapons of a craft I have never seen before."

"Oooooh.." Thranduil's eyes sparkled at the mention of that - he was very fond of the arts of war in their most beautiful form. He'd commissioned the finest blades of Sindar craft for himself along with armour so fabulous it bedazzled opponents for protection. "Then that means the Valar have begun the creation of all we may need to fight. Weapons, armour... I daresay you will get some daggers and a bow better than what you had ever used in Mirkwood." Legolas's weapons had been given to him by Thranduil and while they were pretty and practical, truly nothing could compare to Valarian craft.

His gaze drifted out the window and observed the sharp-edged leaves fluttering with a slightly humid breeze. The scent of the forest wafted a little stronger now, of damp pine needles and thick woods teeming with life. Many creatures lived here and were wondering where all the elves were going. Most of the elves weren't even sure.

Thranduil sipped his wine and ran his tongue over his lips, shifting closer to Legolas so they might sit with their bodies pressed together. Legolas and Thranduil were like two sculpted pieces of a puzzle whose figures were made to fit against each other. And Thranduil absolutely loved it.

Legolas did not even know where his weapons where. They had been lost when they had left Arda. They had deep sentimental meaning and since they had arrived in Aman, Legolas had felt that something had been missing. His hands ached to wield his daggers again, to feel a bowstring taut in his fingers.

The Prince rested his head upon Thranduil's shoulder, their bodies practically twined around each other. They were certainly made to fit one another, and there was no one here to judge there love. Not anymore. In a way, Legolas had gotten his wish, but at the expense of many lives lost, and likely many more to be lost again. The near future did not sound pleasing, beautiful, or peaceful in the slightest.

His thoughts drifted to his weapons. Perhaps they were lying somewhere in the ash and debris of Mirkwood. He intended to find them, for Legolas had become very attached to his weapons. They were an extent of himself

"Those were some of the first weapons you ever gave to me. They will always hold a special place in my heart. Nothing will ever replace them. Not even the most beautiful pieces crafted by the Valar themselves."

"You flatter me, meleth nín." he whispered with a smile "You treasure the things I would give you, yet I would give you the whole universe if I could. Soon you will be armed once more, and one day perhaps we will find your weapons in Mirkwood." Thranduil drank a little more wine then pressed his lips to the base of Legolas's ear in a quiet kiss.

The soft pattering of rain could be heard all around the tree they were in, melting into a single sound that always made Thranduil want to sleep. Rain relaxed him, and everything that had happened today lead very nicely into a lazy afternoon spent with his beloved son. The rest of Thranduil's wine disappeared and he placed the glass on the low table nearby, before snuggling up with Legolas. Why couldn't life be like this, all day and every day?

Legolas closed his eyes, enjoying the softness of Thranduil's lips beneath his ear. The soft pattering of rain drops was relaxing and he, too, felt tired. But an elf so alert often did not rest, and as of late his nights had been relatively sleepless without Thranduil. His heart had been deeply rooted in worry and fear, and even now that Thranduil was back in his arms, there were so many questions left unanswered and still, the Prince felt uneasy despite himself. He drained his own glass of wine and leaned over to set it beside Thranduil's as his fingers trailed lazily along his thigh, up to his belly and beneath his robes. It felt so nice to just touch him, unencumbered by anything at all.

"You have, and do, give me the entire universe." Legolas grinned then. "That is probably why I am such a cheeky little brat of a Prince."

Legolas' fingers moved to lightly trail circles over a nipple as he spoke softly to Thranduil. "Rest, Adar. I will be here when you wake. I see the desire to sleep written all over your face."

_I will watch you as I have so many times before._

Thranduil made a soft, pleased sound as he felt his son's hand beneath his robes. Legolas may have admit himself as a little brat of a prince but he was still Thranduil's prince. And oh, he loved him more than anything in the world. The Elvenking had much affection to give, but hardly knew anyone who would appreciate it other than five close people. Still he would lavish his attentions upon Legolas until the end of time, knowing how jealous the Prince would get if he found his father romantically loving another.

"Stay with me.." he murmured, eyes half lid as he slipped down into a laying position with Legolas's hand still warm against his skin. Thranduil draped an arm and leg over his son, intending to keep him here. He always slept better with a lover beside him, and his sleep would be enhanced with further regenerative qualities from the sheer comfort of it all. And there were no cares to anyone observing their intimacy now - Thranduil just wanted his son.

"I shall be here with you when you awaken, meleth nin." Legolas gently reassured the King.

As Thranduil began to drift into sleep, his breathing evening, Legolas lay beside him, turning his attention from the storm outside to his father. He touched his face gently, his throat, and his chest. Everything remained intact, all _felt_ as it should, but even in sleep, with their connection dulled, there was something strange. It was driving him mad. It was as though there was someone _else_ in there with him. And, unfortunately for whoever it was, if there was anyone at all, Legolas could be a very jealous and very possessive lover when it came to his father, the light of his life.

His mind moved from that to Oropher. Confusion set in once again, fear of his own passion and possession. Something had been awaken within Legolas; a sleeping dragon that could not be tamed, yet Legolas still tried to stubbornly do so with little understanding of what had happened. And still, he had not seen Oropher nor spoken a word to him since the early morning hours after the night they had spent together. He made no mention of it to Thranduil, obviously. And intended never to do so. It needn't be spoken of at all with him, since it would never happen again. Oropher would never lay a finger on Legolas ever again, would he? For Thranduil could be a very possessive lover himself.

Legolas sighed, long and deep, as the night began to pass. He sat, stroking Thranduil's silken hair as they lay on the sofa together, as the storm rolled on outside.


	25. 4/5 : Transition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Feb 15 - 18. Feb 17 is when we officially started the 5th Arc but for organization's sake I'll keep the arc names going like this.

When the morning came, Thranduil was reluctant to move as he felt the comforting warmth of his son's slender body closely twined with his own. Their connection peaked through the hazy clouds of sleep and he nudged at Legolas through his mind, wanting to feel him there.

The storm had passed and there was a light morning rainfall courtesy of the Valar, who had rained all their sorrows for the world upon the lands of both Aman and Arda that night. Now, it was peaceful yet without the ambience of birdsong or insect life. The forest was just as quiet as it had been the day before. Eerily so.

With a quiet yawn and trembling stretch, Thranduil opened his eyes and paused. There was a shadow cast over the balcony, tall and looming with an odd silver sheen. It was Oropher, silently standing with the morning's light glinting off his Mithril-white hair and dressed in all black. Legolas hadn't been the only one watching his father sleep that night.

"Legolas. Thranduil." he stated, approaching with a piece of paper in his hand "We have to leave, now." The tone of his voice left no room for argument and in his eyes there was a look of dull resignation.

Legolas had watched as Oropher had come in in the middle of the night to watch over Thranduil. He hoped that it was not because his grandfather did not trust him but instead just wanted to look upon his son again. Their eyes had met for a moment, but nothing was shared or said as Legolas turned his attention back to Thranduil's face as he listened to the storm. When Oropher approached them finally Legolas sat up, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing at the paper in his hand. He unwound their limbs and stretched as well. He had remained fully dressed throughout the night so he was no longer ready.

"Now?" Legolas was ready to argue. Thranduil had only just returned home. They were granted a few days of peace at least before they had to depart, and he was honestly a little angry that things were beginning to get upturned once again. "I thought we had more time. Surely there is a mistake..."

"The Valar have summoned all the Sindar to prepare for war." said Oropher evenly and with firmness "Things are escalating in Arda and it is imperative we move fast." He spoke like a commander rather than messenger, looking into Legolas's eyes as if the Prince was the only obstacle in the way of victory.

"Adaaarrr.." Thranduil whined, "Let us relax a little longer? Surely Arda can wait. It's going to be ruled over anyway..." He thought of Melkor, and smiled lazily. Mirkwood was gone. There was no connection Thranduil felt to Middle-Earth any longer. It could be given to Melkor on a silver platter for all he cared.

Oropher narrowed his eyes.

"By whom?" he asked, placing the piece of paper he held onto Legolas's head and folding his arms. All the other elves had their weapons and armour - now just a few stragglers were being rounded up for none could escape the battle of all battles. Oropher didn't want to wait.

Legolas caught Thranduil's words and frowned at the sight of him smiling distantly, almost as if his father was... accepting of allowing what was once their home to fall into the hands of Darkness. He took the summoning and opened it, blue eyes scanning quickly. There was a sense of urgency, yes, but Oropher seemed the type to wish to get things moving quickly. When Oropher asked Thranduil about who would be ruling Arda, Legolas felt as though he had been hit with ice. The room went cold just for him and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

_"Is your father really so ignorant, little one?"_

But Legolas said nothing, his heart thudding in his chest. The voice was so cold, yet fair. And slowly Legolas's suspicions were being confirmed. But he could say nothing; not in front of Oropher. If Oropher knew...

No. Legolas did not even know for certain. But he met Thranduil's gaze for a moment before his eyes flicked back to Oropher. His whole body was taut. "We must leave now, then." He reached to pull Thranduil from the sofa. "Quickly. We haven't much time."

The elves of Lorien and Rivendell were already gathering to return.

Thranduil groaned as he was pulled by Legolas and hurriedly adjusted his robes.

"Get dressed in something proper." said Oropher sternly "You are not going to war in those clothes."

The look on Thranduil's face was so horrified it almost made Oropher want to laugh. But that was a thing he did not do. With a click of his fingers, a hunting tunic that doubled as a woodelven military uniform was brought by one of his servants - Galion, who didn't seem pleased that Thranduil was going to war looking a little less fabulous than usual.

Oropher looked at Legolas and deemed him to be proper, and nodded to him before giving a few loud commands to his guards waiting outside. The palace was a flurry of activity and preparation as many got dressed, others packed belongings and the servants hoped they would be supplied with food when they joined the other Sindar.

Thranduil had redressed himself in less than a minute, grumbling all the while about looking like one of the common folk and why he couldn't even wear a circlet or a cape...

Oropher himself was dressed in what looked like a leather bodice with sharp, angular seams giving him the appearance of a warrior assassin who went around slaying dragons in his spare time. The white of his hair contrasted with the shadowy look on his outfit, and a slight sparkle could be seen from the silver outlining thread patterning jagged leaves on his boots.

Meanwhile Galion and all the other servants wore things similar to Thranduil, having gotten themselves ready at the crack of dawn. These were folk who didn't know how to fight, nor did they want to. But if Oropher commanded it, they would do so. 

"Galion..." Legolas murmured and caught the arm of Thranduil's butler with a gentle hand and offered him a smile. He had hardly seen him at all since his arrival in Aman. He embraced the other elf quickly, glad to see him well. But what bothered Legolas was all the elves who would fight alongside of them that barely knew how to wield a weapon. It was like sending sheep to the slaughter. But under Oropher's command, he was certain few were foolish enough to argue.

 

Oropher was an intimidating sight indeed, the angular appearance of his armor and the designs upon it only served to make his rather sharp appearance all the more terrifying. Since he had been deemed acceptable by Oropher's standards, Legolas gave Thranduil a last glance before he brushed past Oropher's shoulder and moved swiftly down the halls and made his way down the tree. Many had gathered at the base of the great tree, Oropher's servants, Thranduil's own people. Below, there were elves of Lorien gathered there. Celeborn was leading them dressed in armor of fine silver plate, delicate and elaborate, holding a glow that meant that it was crafted by the Valar themselves. His long silver hair was plaited behind him and he wore a thin silver circlet on his brow. He was a magnificent, shining figure and his stoic face curved into a smile at the sight of the Prince.

Legolas smiled when he saw the other and they embraced briefly. "Lord Celeborn. I daresay we have poor luck being that each time we meet with one another we seem to be on the very brink of war."

Celeborn inclined his head and laughed gently. "I daresay you are right, Prince Legolas." His grey eyes moved past the Prince, knowing Thranduil would be down shortly. They were all to leave together. He knew that they would meet again soon and while it was not under the best circumstances, Celeborn was rather glad he would be at Thranduil's side once again as they traveled. He smiled at Legolas. "I am starting to wonder if you carry some sort of bad omen with you."

Legolas cocked a slightly amused eyebrow at him. "Will you be joining us in our crossing?"

"Aye. And my men and I have brought you and your father's their weapons." He made a motion for his Galadhrim to bring forth the ones created for the Prince. Haldir, ironically, sans the fingers of one hand, brought forth a quiver filled with arrows and a bow of gold. The arrows were flecked with white feathers. Legolas took them and felt the weight of each. They were impossibly light, but the bow seemed to be crafted of a metal he had not seen before. Celeborn took one of the arrows from Legolas' quiver and held it to the light, muttering softly to it as the tip caught fire and burned silently. "These are quite special, my Prince. Though you need no help in finding your mark, you may speak to them and set them aflame, make them cold as ice, or tinge them with a sleeping spell if you find yourself needing to take anyone prisoner. You can make them as deadly as you desire." He whispered something else and the flame went out in smoke before he placed it back in the quiver. "May your arrows never run out, my Prince, for as long as this quiver is in your possession, you will never be without."

Another Galadhrim brought forth a set of twin daggers, one of gold and another of silver much like the ones Thranduil had gifted him. "Now these," Celeborn spoke and placed them in Legolas' hands by the hilt. "These are as light as a feather and shall never dull. In these days, there will be no time to sharpen your blades let alone clean the blood from them."

Legolas sheathed them and bowed deeply to Celeborn. "I am honored you brought them all this way, Lord Celeborn."

The Lord of Lothlorien nodded. "We shall need all the help we can get, young Prince."

In minutes, all the folk from Oropher's palace had emptied out onto the grass and were receiving weapons best suited to them. Even those who didn't have a specific fighting style were judged beforehand and had weapons made that would enable even the weakest at hand to be swift and efficient. Thranduil came into view alongside Oropher and their people bowed as they always did. Thranduil raised his chin proudly and looked every bit as kingly as he always had, despite the absence of fancy robes. The moment he saw Celeborn he went to give him a gentle hug in greeting, as was custom amongst the wood-elven kin who were close. He was careful of the shining plate armour and thought for a moment how it would feel to be wearing his own armor every hour of the day. The elves of Lorien had brought two sets of armour, one Mithril scale mail shirt for Legolas and a sparkling breastplate with matching gauntlets and pauldrons for Thranduil. Swords had been crafted for Thranduil in the likeness of his old ones; silver and gold with filigree leaf patterns spiralling down the blades and such fine metalwork that they would never break, no matter how much pressure was placed upon them.

And Oropher... well, his weapons needed to be carried by three elves each. While he used to fight with a single greatsword forged of obsidian and twice his height, the Valar had given him two. He was strong enough to lift the two-handed weapon with one hand, thus if he could wield two of the fearsome blades at once it would make him even more of a bloodthirsty killing machine. These glittered silver in the morning light, though were made of a material nonexistent in Middle-Earth. Oropher's emerald eyes gleamed as he picked the swords up by the hilts, which had black spiralling patterns and an elvish script that said "Don't lose these."

In a few moments, everyone had their respective weapons and armour - most had enchanted leather and others, the more fierce fighters, had chainmail and plate.

"We shall be meeting with the Noldor at the Helcaraxë, if I am not mistaken." said Oropher to Celeborn "Are your folk all prepared?"

As the elves were gifted their weapons Legolas donned his mithril mail beneath his black tunic, not wishing to stand out like a sore thumb as soon as they elves began to separate. It glittered in the light of the morning, and when the sun touched it just right it could almost blind a creature. A bit peeked from beneath the collar of his tunic, but Legolas wore no other armor besides that, no pauldrons, no gauntlets, no shining breast plate of intricate design. He looked to Oropher and Thranduil now and nodded, indicating that he was ready to move off when commanded.

Celeborn nodded to Oropher, inclining his head with respect to the elder elf. "My men have been ready since before the sun rose this morning, your Majesty." It was quite a distance to the Helcaraxe, and apparently the Noldor had gotten a head start. Celeborn ordered his men to move ahead, though some remained behind to help flank some of Oropher's people. He intended on walking between the two groups of elves and looked at Thranduil. "Would you care to travel beside me, Thranduil? I would be delighted to strategize with you and it shall be quite a trek there."

"Of course." said Thranduil with a smile, nodding to his father as if asking approval. Oropher grunted something and looked away, moving off to lead the group onwards through the forest. He didn't think Thranduil should be strategising anything - then again, he had never seen him command an army before. That had always been Oropher's job. For he was the King, and still thought of himself as such. Thranduil thought the same... and when they arrived in Middle-Earth, a conflict was almost inevitable.

Thranduil knew Oropher respected and understood the relationship he had with Celeborn - the Lord of Lorien had been Thranduil's first and closest childhood friend during the War of Wrath, and Oropher didn't dare separate them. However it intrigued him that Celeborn knew anything of military tactics at all - he didn't seem the type to have experience in battle. But that was just Oropher's assumption. He barely knew Celeborn as a friend or anything at all. He lifted his two greatswords and balanced them on his shoulders, and continued to walk. No time to waste thinking on one's feet. They had places to be.

Celeborn watched Oropher go with a gentle smile in the King's direction, before turning his eyes to Thranduil. As the Galadhrim moved, their Lord walked in stride between them, Thranduil at his right. "See? I told you we would meet again. And here we are."

The air was thick with the scent of the morning dew as they walked, the grass and mud squishing gently beneath their boots. Celeborn knew they should enjoy the warmth while they could, for in time, when they reached the Helcaraxe, there would be deathly chill in the air as they crossed to Middle Earth. The elves had brought heavy cloaks for winter's chill in preparation. The elves would never go anywhere unprepared.

As they walked, Celeborn scanned the surrounding with his eyes before meeting Thranduil's gaze. "I did not truly wish to talk battle strategies, mellon nin. It was merely an excuse to enjoy a conversation with you on our long walk together. I thought it a better excuse to give your father than anything else." He smiled sheepishly.

Legolas was near the front of the pack of elves as he always preferred to be. Leading, in a way, though at the same time knowing he was not. His bow was in his hand as he moved slightly ahead of Celeborn's Galadhrim. It would be a long walk indeed. He could not say he was itching to return to Arda. He enjoyed the fresh air for as long as he could, and the sun in the sky before darkness blanketed them and smoke, fire, and death was thick in the air. Ever alert, blue eyes scanned their surroundings more keenly than any Galadhrim. Haldir was close behind, and although they had made amends somewhat, for the Marchwarden had not been completely in his right mind, he made Legolas uneasy. He would have to keep an eye out for him.

"As long as you keep a straight face, you can get my father to believe anything. But you know, he'll let you and I do just about anything together, for he knows our history." Thranduil smiled sideways at Celeborn as the trees thinned a little, light streaming through the canopy above. His hands freely trailed by his sides while he walked, the two swords he'd been given safely stashed in the sheathes attached to the bottom of his breastplate. He didn't want to carry his weapons in his hands all the time - he needed to be able to gesture and smack a bitch if necessary.

If he saw Liliel, it would be even more important.

The elves had to pass the somewhat abandoned Noldor city atop its grassy hill, with magnificent marble structures to the right as they took the short route towards the gap in the Pelori mountains. Thranduil couldn't help but stare and wished he'd gone to visit Elrond and Gil-Galad before this all happened - he was fond of the Noldor and didn't hate them as much as Oropher did. And he knew he would always be welcome in their Kingdom, no matter who ruled. Oh well. He would have plenty of dealings with them later on, when their groups joined up. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about it.

As they walked, Celeborn took his time to allow his eyes to travel over Thranduil's features. He was beautiful when he was young, and with each passing century seemed to get more lovely with age. He knew Thranduil was a warrior and a force to be reckoned with. Celeborn was more than passable with a sword, that was for certain, but the Elvenking had a certain prowess on the battlefield that made many envious. He had taught Legolas well, for he had seen the way the Prince moved with his blade. He was athletic and elegant, and never missed his mark. The House of Oropher was absolutely deadly.

He smiled, then. "Yes, perhaps you are right. But for some reason, I feel as though I must always come up with an excuse that pleases him. You are still his precious son, mellon nin. And you will always be. Like Legolas is yours. He is incredibly protective." Celeborn inclined his silver head. "As he should be."

They were close, shoulder to shoulder as they walked. Every once in a while the backs of their hands brushed by accident and the small touch caused Celeborn's cheeks to flare up. His eyes moved to the marble buildings and fortresses of the Noldor, and vaguely Celeborn wondered if Elrond had found Celebrian. It was likely so, but even more likely that she did not go with him. She was so horribly catatonic that Celeborn feared his daughter would remain here, in silence and completely alone as she had felt for centuries before she sailed. It was her fate. He had asked the Valar and they told him it would never change. It broke his heart. She was such a beautiful and caring creature, she was everything Celeborn had fallen in love with before everything went to hell. And now, she was just a shell.

"I am regretful that you did not have a chance to enjoy more of the pleasantries of this world, Thranduil, before you were called to battle once again. I know you would have preferred to stay; I would, too." His eyes moved to the front of the pack of elves where Legolas walked alongside Oropher. "But you know Legolas would have run off into battle and you would always follow him."

"Indeed.." said Thranduil with a disappointed little huff "I would follow him to the ends of the world. He is my son, and I must protect him. Even if he can fight well." It was his duty, he felt, to look after his dearest little leaf for as long as possible. Legolas had assisted his father at a young age when Thranduil had gone blind; and Thranduil had been overprotective to an almost terrifying degree. Oropher had been the same towards Thranduil and still was, threatening people without much reason if they even looked at Thranduil wrong. Then again, his glares usually meant he was going to choke someone with their own innards. It varied.

"It seems my family is always embroiled in some conflict or another. Be it separation or a neverending fight... there's just too much difference between us. Either someone submits or there's a power struggle." Thranduil trailed his index finger absently along the palm of Celeborn's hand as they walked. "I don't think I will be submitting to anyone, anytime soon. Not even in the bedroom." At that, he laced his fingers with his friend's and smirked sideways at him. They didn't play with kinky dynamics too often and it was a gentle, loving passion they shared throughout the ages unrivalled by anything else.

Thranduil and Elrond had also taken a curious approach to their relationship. With a friendship bound for eternity, romance was treated with caution and it was always some hesitation from Elrond and seduction from Thranduil before they could lose themselves in the fierce heat of each other's bodies. The King thought vaguely just how many of his dear friends he had coupled with at some point in his life. He squeezed Celeborn's hand a little and smiled. Nobody could resist him.

"You have always been incredibly protective of him, Thranduil..." Celeborn said with a smile, lacing their hands together as they walked. "It is only natural as his parent. I still remember giving Celebrian to Elrond like it was yesterday..." His grey eyes were distant for some moments while in memory. "I did not wish to... Gods, and I still wish I hadn't. I wish I had held onto her as desperately as you have had Legolas. Maybe if she had not gone to Imladris she would not..." He trailed off, shaking his head. Now was not the time to think of something he could not change. What was done was done, and Celeborn had never truly learned how to accept it.

"Just... hold onto him for as long as you can, mellon nin. For once he slips from your fingers he will be gone forever."

Celeborn blushed lightly, then, at Thranduil's words. No, he was certainly no dirty talker and not one who toyed with the idea of kinks in the bedroom. The Lothlorien Lord was nothing but pure of heart, kind, and good. There was not a single bad bone in his body, and he disliked confrontation above all else. Sometimes, however, confrontation was necessary. He knew there was a time and a place for everything. "No... I do not see you submitting to anyone _any time_ soon, bedroom or otherwise." He laughed quietly. "You Woodland folk are stubborn creatures, but loyal. How could one not respect or appreciate those traits? I am only lucky that you allowed me in this far."

"Oh, I'll allow you in as far as you can go..." Thranduil murmured, leaning in to whisper so only Celeborn could hear, secretly poking the shell of his ear with his tongue. It brought him great joy and much amusement to see his friend so flustered, but knew there was a limit to how naughty he could be. They were, after all, in a large group. One that would only triple in size once they met with the Noldor and literally every other elven kin in existence. Some so ancient they lead back to the first elves to set foot on Arda, others too distant and with different tongues they could not even speak to the elves of the First Age.

Celeborn had flushed a deeper shade of crimson at that. Thranduil had always been so lovely and teasing, almost shameless. They were traits the Lorien Lord admired and even envied. He could barely so much as say the words "making love" without turning the color of a strawberry. Even as Thranduil whispered into his ears, he was certain some of his Galadhrim close by could hear what the Elvenking said to him. Even if they could, they gave no indication that they had heard anything at all.

Thranduil heeded Celeborn's advice regarding Legolas. He had always kept his son as close as possible, for Legolas was the only thing Thranduil really had to keep him grounded, loved and sane. Oropher had been that way with Thranduil, not wanting to be parted from his elfling with only one parent and no explanation for where the other had gone. But he was crazy either way, with completely unpredictable motives for the things he did be them for personal gain or cruel enjoyment. Thranduil's eyes roved to the tallest figure at the front of their group and spotted Oropher, crownless yet magnificent as anyone could ever be. And beside him, Legolas. Marching neatly in step with purpose and alertness. With a sigh, Thranduil looked away. Legolas almost seemed to suit the position beside Oropher's side. Was that... a twinge of _jealousy_ he felt?

Celeborn followed Thranduil's protective gaze to the front of the pack where Legolas walked alongside Oropher and he offered a gentle smile. "He is lucky to have someone like you in his life, as you are lucky to have him. A family whose bonds run as deep as yours would risk their lives to see one of their own live. I fear the elves of Lorien are cowards in comparison."

Thranduil did not reply.

Celeborn sighed. The armor he wore, while magnificent and fitting, was still and uncomfortable. He was no warrior, and as they moved closer to the Helcaraxe, Celeborn began to feel uneasy. The sun was beginning to set and soon they were blanketed by the night sky. "We should stop soon, and rest for the evening." They had been marching most of the day. His feet ached and Celeborn was starting to feel several millennia more aged than he already was.

He murmured something to the guard before him, who passed his message along to the front, to Haldir, who raised his hand and all of the Galadhrim halted in unison.

Legolas turned his head at the sound of the sudden clang of armor and several hundred elves stopping in time. It was nightfall, and he knew that soon they would not be able to rest safely. This could be their only chance. He looked to Oropher before turning to face Celeborn's men.

Celeborn called from the middle of the group to Oropher. "If it please you, Your Majesty, I hoped that we might take shelter here for the night and begin our path anew when the sun rises."

Oropher turned to the Galadhrim and then made a gesture with his hand for all his own folk to stop too.

"We may rest here without fear of being ambushed." he said simply, knowing there was no need for tents and the like in Aman where the winds and rain would not attack those who slept beneath the stars. "Sleep wherever you wish."

The Silvan and Sindar seemed quite relieved to be able to rest, and went about forming groups. They commonly slept in piles of family and friends, for they took a pack mentality to keeping warm and safe at night. Oropher didn't sleep unless he was seriously ill or fatigued, and merely sat himself down on the grass and looked into the distance. Pensive, unfeeling, and emotionless.

Thranduil wished to sleep with Celeborn tonight and tugged him to a soft patch of grass, eager to wrap himself around the one he hadn't been this close to in years.

Legolas had made a move towards Thranduil once Oropher had commanded his men to stop, wishing to lay beside his father this night. He felt a natural protection for him, one that he had felt from an early age. When he saw Thranduil tug Celeborn along with him into a more secluded patch of grass the Prince had paused in his step, swallowing jealousy he felt well up. He had always greatly respected the Lorien lord, but still he could not help the bit of hurt he felt that Thranduil did not seek him out. They had said nothing to one another since the strange interaction they had had through their connection earlier. Pushing all thoughts aside, he felt that sleep would elude him this night anyways, for apparently Celeborn would serve as his father's protector this night. He moved to sit against a tree near Oropher, his eyes silently moving in the distance as he watched Haldir start to patrol their surroundings.

Celeborn followed Thranduil willingly and knelt down into the soft patch of grass beside the King. He smiled.

"I can hardly remember the last time we lay beneath the stars together. What a treat indeed."

"I do feel this shall be a memory to keep us going through the hard times that approach.." said Thranduil with a soft smile, setting his scabbards and armor away from himself as he lay down.  Briefly he sensed that Legolas was a little lonely, and wanted to tell his son that there was no reason for his sleeping preference tonight. But he thought otherwise, being so comfortable already he could barely think to move. Things just _happened_ with Thranduil; he did not favor Celeborn over his son. But he did love him. And he showed that with a gentle kiss to his friend's cheek, warm and fond.

"Do you remember the last time we got to sleep together, under the stars?" he asked in a soft whisper beside Celeborn's ear "It was all the way back in the First Age.. after Doriath."

Celeborn did not bother removing his armor, but took off the black cloak he wore and lay it flat beneath them so that they might lay upon it. He smiled and turned his face to brush their lips together lightly as he pulled Thranduil into his arms so that he might hold him and watch the stars.

"We were so young then, Thranduil." He reached to curl his hands in the other's hair, and his eyes remained plastered on the dark sky above. "Things were far more simple. Even for this old elf."

Thranduil turned his head to also watch the stars, taking in the sight as far as he could see.

"Indeed, life was simple but not easy. I relied on my father for everything, and probably would have been the loneliest little elfling without you." Back then, Thranduil had climbed into the arms of anyone who would accept him and carry his light weight around. Oropher was busy establishing his realm, thus had a little less time for his needy son.

Thranduil wrapped a leg around Celeborn and snuggled up to him, his whole body pressed against cool armor and thick cloth.

"I'm glad I still have you."

"You are still quite the needy little elfling I remember." Celeborn did not mean to wound with his words. It was a gentle tease. "And you grow more beautiful by the day. I certainly do not mind bending to your whims. You could have anyone at all, and yet you find yourself in the arms of a Lord who has had naught to offer this world save for its destruction at the hands of a wife who loved me too little. I bore no rings of power, and while I ruled alongside of her I hardly had my own say."

He pulled his thoughts from the darkness again and closed his eyes for a moment as he pressed their heads together. Celeborn pressed close to Thranduil, as close as he could manage with all of this damned plating on. "I still follow you around, star struck like I was when I was young."

"I would gladly have you following me around for as long as you liked." said Thranduil, "Though I daresay my son would oppose to that. Even now I think he would like to sleep with me rather than alone." He cast a look towards Legolas once more but soon his attention diverted to the stars. It pleased him to know that Celeborn thought so highly of him - of course he knew, as he star-struck people on a daily basis. Somehow it meant more to him to hear it from his friend's lips, to see the delightful sparkle in his eyes.

"What do you expect, dear friend, when you have kept him close beneath your wings? Would you expect him to behave any other way?" Celeborn's hands moved gently through Tharnduil's hair. Their touches were loving, tender, and chaste, for Celeborn refused to treat Thranduil any other way than with the utmost respect and love that he deserved.

He caught Thranduil's wandering eyes and helped guide his gaze back to the stars above. "Enjoy it while you can. War changes elves. Power changes them. I have seen it with my own eyes, Thranduil. Enjoy your innocent and precious son before he is changed by battle and bloodshed. For what we shall see cannot be unseen."

The sense of finality Thranduil got from Celeborn's words unnerved him, and he swiftly hid the distress he felt regarding a colder, more distant Legolas. He buried his face in his friend's neck and nuzzled him as if trying to rub away what he had heard. 

 

Legolas had seen death and many other wartime events unfold during the War of the Ring, but had not seen those close to him fall. Aside from Liliel, who was fried protecting him back in the Second Age, Legolas remained one unchanged by horrid loss before his eyes and thus was a little braver than Thranduil when it came to battle. Yes, Thranduil thought so. He thought Legolas reckless and fierce-spirited, and through sheer luck he had managed to come out of all his risks relatively unscathed. Thranduil on the other hand had lived through the trauma of seeing his father and mentor fall at the hand of Sauron deep within Mordor. So greatly was he affected that he could not look south without its memory making him shiver. When he thought of those things, sunlight dimmed and moonlight waned as he lost himself in the terrible darkness.

He could not see Oropher die again. Nor Legolas, for that matter. And the thought of a four thousand year old elven prince becoming a hardened warrior through the battle for Middle-Earth? It made Thranduil want to rip his own face off. Legolas was his loving, supportive, precious little darling. If he changed... Thranduil would only become more severe in adaption. And soon, there would be no need for gentle touches and kind words. He would not be so weak, he would not feel vulnerable.

He would become one with the darkness and melt away from who he once was.

 

For now, he was as he always had been. Worrying about his son, with his face hidden and mind floating.

Celeborn felt Thranduil began to clam up at his words, for they apparently struck a chord. He pulled the King a little closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his head. He let his touches and soft utterances calm and coax his friend back to reality, back to a more peaceful state of mind. He sat up slightly, resting his weight on his elbow as his eyes drifted to Legolas who kept his eyes on the horizon. His golden hair fluttered and fanned around him in the breeze. Perhaps he had been wrong to say such things about Legolas. The Prince was strong and though he was young he had seen many terrors, and he had not been changed for the worse. Not yet. Celeborn hoped that might never come to pass.

Thranduil, however, was a whole new matter entirely and naturally Celeborn was concerned for him. "Let us not speak of these things anymore, friend. You must be exhausted." A soft yawn was drawn from his lips.

"Mnnh.." Thranduil replied as he gazed at Celeborn. Having such comfort and care was a lovely thing, and it seemed the older elf knew whenever Thranduil's mind was dipping into darker thoughts. He reached and drew his thumb along a fine, dark eyebrow then trailed it down the curves of a beautifully sculpted cheekbone. Staring for a while and feeling was a character trait of Thranduil's, for he always loved to have silent moments of bonding and closeness even if it was just the connection of hand to face. In his eyes was a deep reverence and also thinly veiled desire. But all was blanketed by the need to sleep - he could not walk and worry for very long.

"Would you care to take off your armour?" he asked softly, his hand coming to rest at the edge of the shining plate "Surely it is uncomfortable to sleep in.... feel the softness of the grass, mellon nín. Feel... me."

Celeborn held Thranduil's gaze for a time as his face was touched and studied, before his cheeks flushed pink once again and his eyes moved past the King's shoulder to gaze at the group of elves that were settling in the distance. He was not used to being observed so closely, so carefully, and frankly it made him a little uncomfortable. But he knew Thranduil's intentions were naught but good, and honestly he was the only elf who had ever attempted to do so.

Grey eyes flickered back to meet the King's gaze and he nodded, sitting up slowly and unbuckling the plate around his breast, his back, his arms. It all went into a neat pile beside him and Celeborn no longer felt the uncomfortable stiffness it provided. He felt a bit of freedom in these dark times and it was unlikely they would be ambushed out here, surrounded by warriors and fighters. He moved to lay down beside Thranduil in his soft grey tunic, pulling the other close.

"You are right, mellon nin. That is much, much better."

Thranduil was lovely and warm as he attached himself to Celeborn, settling within seconds into the arms of his friend. They looked like lovers though, limbs entwined and faces so close. With a smile and soft kiss to Celeborn's lips, Thranduil made a little sound of contentment and closed his eyes. Absolutely perfect... Out in the open, warm and safe, held by someone he loved.

He would not have another chance like this for quite some time.

Something about the way they held each other beneath the stars felt innately... right, as though they were meant to be like this. There were so many times that they were not intimate but just held each other beneath the blanket of the night sky or warm golden rays of the sun. He pressed his lips to Thranduil's forehead, allowing each muscle in his body to relax as they lay there together, his own eyes starting to close as he listened to the King's soft breathing beside him.

Legolas, meanwhile, had not taken his eyes from the horizon. He had said nothing to anyone and not even the Galadhrim dared to approach him. Thranduil had not come to him, but that was fine and well even if he was a bit jealous. It was a feeling he knew he would likely have to get used to in time. He knew Thranduil had many admirers and lovers that extended past his own son. He had always had the deepest respect for Celeborn, and could see why his father was attracted to the other elf. He knew that their relationship extended as far back as his father's younger years, when he was naught but a child.

He leaned his head against the rough bark of the tree he sat against, lightly worrying the blades of grass beneath his fingers as he delved deeper into his own thoughts in silence. Morning light could not come soon enough. Legolas was itching to travel once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know the Helcaraxe shouldn't exist because Beleriand was sunk and how the hell are we gonna get from Aman to Middle-Earth on foot - Well. We fucked up. So, just imagine that over time Aman floated closer in its invisible magic dimension space to the north-western Blue Mountains area and the chill of what was left of Aman's Helcaraxe bits spread to make some new, crossable Grinding Ice. Having said that, you can't access Aman from Middle-Earth this way because you gotta use the Straight Road in one of them fancy elf ships to get there. If you try the Noldorin Certified Scenic Route, you'll freeze to death by the will of the Valar. Or lingering icy hatred bits of Melkor. idk. some shit.


	26. 5-1 : Zombie Arda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elven politics, deep conversations and no smut! This one's for all you serious story-goers out there. I hope you enjoy it~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave a few comments if you feel like it. I haven't much will to update this without a little feedback tbh x;D especialy now as we're heading into the dark, gritty war arc...

The sun rose the next morning to the silence of Aman, nothing to be heard until the first elf awoke and roused their friends. Oropher had not slept at all, too edgy for battle and impatient to meet with the others. Oh he may hate the Noldor, but the sight of Gil-Galad was one that could raise his mood no matter how antsy he was.

He approached Legolas and told him it was time to get going, offering a hand if the prince wished to take it and get up.

Legolas had not slept a wink during the night and watched the sun rise in the horizon. The chill night air dissipated into warmth as the golden light spread across the plains. His eyes were plastered on the distance as their people began to rise and prepare to depart and the Prince started a bit as Oropher's voice addressed him. A hand was offered that he took, standing slowly and stretching. The evening had been quiet as he expected it to be and he gathered the few items he had with him before calling the Woodland group into formation. He glanced at his grandfather before moving to the front, clearly ready to leave.

Thranduil meanwhile had woken at the crack of dawn as he always did, but was still reluctant to untangle himself from Celeborn and get going. It was so idyllic and peaceful here in Aman, the way Middle-Earth was destined to be yet had not turned out so due to Melkor's interference. Nearly all the elves were loathe to leave their natural home and fight for a world that was already lost. The Sindar and Silvan especially wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with the burnt out shell of what Arda had become.

Celeborn heard Oropher's voice and moaned softly as he rolled over, arm over his eyes and body aching for another hour of sleep. He felt an unfamiliar tangling of limbs and smiled when he realized that Thranduil was right beside him. He smiled into the sunlight, sitting up slowly but keeping the King attached to him.

"Come, dear one... I think it is time to go."

Thranduil whined his disapproval of their plan to get going, but knew at the back of his mind it was time. With a few grumbles and quiet huffs, he stood with Celeborn still in his arms and rested his head on the Sinda's shoulder. Ah, it was nice to just stand and rest like this, without having to do anything...

A shout from Oropher drew his attention and brought a scowl to his fair face.

"Thranduil, hurry up! The war's not going to wait for you!"

Such a fantastic start to the day. Thranduil detached himself reluctantly from Celeborn and started putting all his armor on, not saying a word until he looked ready for battle, war face and all. The woodland folk graciously pretended nothing had happened, and looked north to where they were headed. The mountains would soon disappear behind them and there would be sparse forests with tall trees and dark, dead grasses depending on where they walked. Thranduil thought of Melkor, and what he was doing now. He hoped he wouldn't have to go against the Dark Lord during the war... for taking sides had become increasingly difficult as of late. He worked for his best interests, his family, and his people.

And apparently, for Melkor's will.

Celeborn pretended not to hear any of Oropher's rather loud shouts, treating Thranduil like a child out of sympathy for his dear friend when in fact, the entire forest had likely heard it. He quietly strapped his armor back on until he shone like the moon, the glint of the sun's rays off his breastplate almost blinding as Thranduil continued to mutter and huff. When he was fully dressed he smiled gently at the King and took his arm, guiding him towards his men as they assembled and they once again marched off. They had hardly left a trace upon where they had camped; one could barely tell that hundreds of elves slept in these plains the night prior. The Galadhrim were experts at not leaving a trace, as were the elves belonging to the House of Oropher and Thranduil.

He rested a gentle hand beneath Thranduil's elbow as they walked. He had deeply enjoyed the evening before. He had missed Thranduil in his arms and hoped they might have an opportunity to be alone. He did not dare try anything in the presence of so many elves, least of all, Oropher. He leaned in close to whisper into his ear as they walked. "I slept better last night upon the bare ground than I have in my own bed in several millennia, mellon nin. Thank you."

Through the necklace embedded into Thranduil's flesh, Melkor could see all. He felt when Thranduil thought of him, saw what was in his mind's eye. There was love, a deep desire for this elf, Celeborn, a tinge of jealousy towards Legolas. Melkor saw all and knew what Legolas hid from his father. He could wield any of the secrets of these elves against him if he so chose to. He watched where they traveled; the Helcaraxe was near and the Noldor waited for them there. It would not be long before he had the strength to embody himself in Arda, for him to give body to Sauron whom he had only communicated with in mind and spirit before now. Yes, this was going to be quite beautiful. Thranduil was proving to be a beautiful and loyal servant indeed. He would have to treat him well, for as long as he could, at least.

Thranduil relished in the comfort of Celeborn beside him and thoughtlessly linked their arms together. As companions would often do, not lovers. He had a natural habit of hiding all displays of affection in public, after all. He was the King after all; anything more than love for his wife was deeply frowned upon.

Then again, anyone who had seen him at Mirkwood's festivals and other celebrations accepted otherwise. Nobody complained at the sight of his body, seductive and a treat to gaze upon.

 

Oropher set the pace at the front of the group in a firm marching step, his Silvan keeping in time with almost mechanical precision. His soldiers were the elite, and moved with such efficiency it was quite unnerving to see them in battle. Ten thousand elves all nooking arrows into bows that never fired wrong. Nobody could survive them.

 

The weather became chill as heavy clouds forecast rain in the Dark Lands, the elder elves knowing that this was a sign that Manwë, lord of the skies was watching over them. He was the brother of Melkor and considered mightiest of all the Valar, and was going to make the greatest effort possible in the war against evil. But since it was easiest for him to follow anyone wherever they went in the world, he had personally taken on the task of being guardian to the elves. His wife watched them at night through the stars, and with proper surveillance hopefully corruption would not spread.

But it had already begun.

Little did the eyes of the Valar see, for corruption had already begun slowly within the ranks of elves. It began with the pendant Thranduil wore, for it was Melkor's eye where Sauron was not. This was all done in so secret a way that not even the other Valar could sense the darkness he sought to spread throughout the Eldar, a beloved creation most pure. Poor, sweet, naive Manwë, Melkor had thought. He could not possibly think that his brother would play by the rules, did he? No, Melkor much preferred to play dirty. All attempts made to search for him in Aman were futile, for he had built a home for himself so elaborate in his mind that it was difficult to distinguish what was reality and what was not. Thranduil had been the first creature ever granted access, and Melkor was certain he would be the last. He would make an appearance when it was his time and he allowed Thranduil to feel his cool embrace even as he walked amongst his kin, just to remind him that he was there.

Celeborn and Thranduil said little for a time as they walked arm in arm. Oropher's pace was purposeful and there was no time to linger. Frankly, Celeborn had quite the time keeping up and in all honesty had no desire to see the Noldor so soon. His relations with Elrond were a bit strained and Gil-galad had always been rather difficult to deal with. While the High King was haughty, brilliant, and like the blinding sun, Celeborn was gentle, subdued, and more than humble. He wondered if death had made him any less full of himself. Unlikely.

Legolas, meanwhile, was eager to move and met Oropher's long strides with his own. As they continued to move, every few kilometers they moved the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Soon, he had donned a thick cloak that was the color of the green of the forest and their breaths could be seen on the air. Flocks of birds flew overhead past them and in the direction the elves had come. The Prince glanced at Oropher, his face impassive though his heart was wrought with worry. "That certainly is not a good sign. I suppose that means we are going in the right direction."

"As right as one can be when heading for a group of freezing Noldor and gravewalking men.." Oropher muttered as he took his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders with one hand. He was used to having folk dress him and look after any of his needs - as it was difficult to do anything when carrying two massive swords and such a stiff manner. Still, he managed to stave off the cold for now. Elves were naturally resistant to temperatures and Oropher was similar to Legolas in this regard, not feeling the usual chill but being affected by the more serious freeze of the North. He had survived two Fell Winters and many a famine; he wasn't about to let the Helcaraxë kill him. But it had undone many elves of the past during the times he only knew as ancient history and lore. Silmarillion thoughts aside, Oropher spun his blades by the hilts and attempted to loosen up his tight muscles.

"Are you scared?" he asked Legolas, his voice a deep rumbling baritone only the Prince could hear so close. There was a smirk in there somewhere but his face was as stern as ever. The last time he had seen Legolas anywhere near a battle had ended with his mother dead, father severely wounded, and Legolas a quivering ball of sorrow. He did not think Legolas could survive this war. But he was going to try. For the House of Oropher did not fall so easily.

Legolas’s eyes narrowed at his grandfather's words, and although those smirking thin lips told him that he did not truly mean any ill will by them, he knew that Oropher was likely still quite serious.

"Scared?" he murmured, looking quite appalled at the taller elf. "Of course not. I am not the child you remember, Daeradar. I thought I _reminded_ you of that. Or did you forget?"

His own voice was low and only for the King's ears as they moved. In truth, he was scared. Any healthy elf would be. This would be like anything Legolas had ever dealt with before. If he thought he had seen all of the horrors Sauron had to offer, he was sorely mistaken.

It amazed Legolas that Oropher did not sheathe his swords but seemed determined to walk with the glinting pieces of metal that the elves behind him had to watch for, lest their heads get removed in the process if he were to turn too suddenly. He pressed his hand to the brooch at his throat as they walked, a stag's head created with gleaming bits of silver with sharp edges and winding wire designs, tightening the cloak a bit around his ears. The wind was picking up a bit, and while Legolas was relatively immune to the chill of the air, his ears had become red and cold as a result of being assaulted by the vicious current of air.

Oropher wanted to sneer and tell Legolas he hadn't reminded him well enough, but thought against a biting remark at this particular moment. He did not feel anything negative towards his grandson and merely grunted in reply, dark eyebrows sharply angled down. His eyes directed forth, he squinted a little and saw a snow-capped rock in the distance, marking the beginning of the Helcaraxë. He'd never crossed it before, having not traveled between Aman and Arda with such frequency as the other elves before the first age.

With a shake of his head, Oropher covered his aggressively pointed ears with the snow-white expanse of his hair. It was warm enough, being attached to his head.  And he marched on, not saying a word but already in a bad mood. Nothing new, really.

Legolas turned his eyes back to the distance, and a particularly chill gust of wind caused a few elves behind them to gasp softly in surprise. Capes were fluttering and swirling in the wind now as they marched, the sharpness and unity of it all causing the ground to shake. If the Noldor did not know they Sindar were arriving, they would be made well aware in seconds.

"The Noldor..." Legolas said, moving closer so Oropher could hear his voice upon the wind so the did not need to shout it. "They have been waiting out there this entire time?" They must have been mad. They were not even in the thick of the Grinding Ice yet. He could only imagine that they found some sort of shelter in the meantime, for while the Elves held a tolerance against the cold, remaining out in those temperatures for an extended period of time, exposed to the elements, could be dangerous.

"The Noldor." Oropher scoffed with a careless roll of his eyes "Damned idiots, the lot of them. Always have to be first, and pretending they know everything. They're probably waiting in a cave or something with tents up and thin patience. I wouldn't mind making them wait a little longer." But then he thought of Gil-Galad with his firm ass planted on cold rock and shivering on his own, and sighed. Those Noldor really were terrible at dealing with any of the outside world's trials and tribulations. They were better off in their palaces than out on the road. Oropher always thought the outdoorsy Sindar and Silvan better than them in that regard. At least the Silvan knew how to huddle up for warmth without care for social status or relations! Friggin Noldor. So uptight and stubborn.

"If they try anything strange you just let me know. I don't trust them."

_Except for one._

"They have never really seen eye to eye with us."

Oropher knew their people would be tired by the time they got to the Noldor camp and would have to set up a place of their own to rest overnight. If the Noldor even thought about hurrying them along, Oropher would see to it that none of them were left with lips to speak again.

Legolas was well aware of his grandfather's dislike and distrust of the Noldor. If what was written in history books did not tell the lot of it his father was certain to let him know. The Prince even had his own reasons of distrust, none of his own reasons but mostly prejudice passed down from one generation to the next. They were quite different from the Sindar and the Silvan elves. Some were exceptions, of course, but Legolas did not fully understand Oropher's hatred.

He snorted as they walked, tightening his cloak around his neck as it continued to whip up behind him like an emerald banner. "If they 'try anything strange', Daeradar, I will be certain to take care of it in my own way. There will be no blood shed between our kin. There is already enough of that where we are going." Legolas turned blue eyes back to the path ahead.

Oropher snorted at the notion of holding back Kinslaying against the Noldor. They deserved it, in his opinion. For all their wars on jewels and merciless rape of other elven cultures. He had hated them for so long he was beginning to forget the factual details of why. He lapsed into silence along with Legolas as they walked, the ground turning whiter with ice upon the grass and then thick snow.

 

 

Thranduil's thoughts drifted about meaninglessly as he trudged alongside Celeborn. He knew how to march but was no soldier - he thought himself the shining star in their ranks, the greatest fighter in Middle-Earth... now second to only Oropher. Now his thoughts went to who would be King. There would be a discussion or decision of some sort, because the Silvan would be confused about who to follow just as the Sindar would not know to look to Oropher or Thingol. Thingol didn't want anything to do with war and was alone without his beloved Melian. Still he marched with the Sindar and thought how the world's worst events seemed to repeat themselves. He had seen it all. And he was tired.

Celeborn could sense Thranduil's thoughts and sought to bring him up again. He nudged the other elf lightly as they walk, reaching to touch his face to pull his attention back to the present. "I am losing you again, mellon nín. Do you care to share your heart with me?"

At the gentle touch to his face, Thranduil startled and looked to Celeborn. He wondered just how close their minds were, that his friend could sense when his thoughts turned dark. He looked saddened for a moment before nudging Celeborn back.

"I worry about a thing that I really shouldn't. It is regarding... who the Silvan will look to as their King when we are all ready to go to war. The Noldor have Gil-Galad, the other elven kin I have no clue... But.." his voice trailed off, and he looked away. How could he possibly explain this?

Celeborn frowned slightly at Thranduil's statement. Yes, it was clear that Oropher had no intention of giving up his kingship. Thranduil would always be a Prince in his father's eyes and nothing greater so long as he drew breath. What Celeborn also knew was that Thranduil was born to be King and to rule, and that it was likely eating away at the Sinda elf that he stood in the middle of these two elven armies with none to command for fear of repercussion.

He reached out to touch the King's hand to indicate that he needn't say more. Of course Celeborn understood. He had always understood Thranduil in all courses his life took. There was never a time that he could not sympathize or empathize with the other elf. It had always been the nature of their friendship. "It is likely your father will take command of your people, Thranduil, but perhaps we can convince him that it is best that we split armies up? You take half of your people and he takes the other." He was more trusting of Thranduil's tactics in battle, for the Battle of Dagorlad ended in the death of many including Oropher out of arrogance; in Celeborn's eyes it could have been avoided. "I... do not wish to see your people fall at the hands of your father again. He is too proud."

Thranduil considered Celeborn's advice. The Sinda spoke to him in his calm, gentle voice and offered hope where there had been nothing but panic.

"He's a reckless fool, that's what." grumbled Thranduil with a glare in his father's direction. "If he commands our armies, no matter how vast and well trained we are there is no knowledge of the enemy, no strategy in his mind. All he wants is blood." A quiet elvish curse under his breath and shake of the head later, Thranduil snapped out of his spiteful moment. Celeborn didn't need to see him like that, at the worst point of his mental banter.

"I ah... will consider talking to him about the armies. I do think the Silvan would prefer me as their leader, seeing as two thirds of them were killed as a result of my father's 'tactics'.... " But then Thranduil remembered. The first time he had lead the Silvan, they had died with the serpents of the north along with his wife, eyesight and nearly his son. The second time they had still died (as folk did in war) but did not suffer such grievous loss at the Battle of the Five Armies... And even though numbers didn't matter now as they were all reborn and willing to fight - many were not looking forward to the leadership of the King who had charged headfirst at the Dark Lord and suffered minutes of burning agony because of it.

While Celeborn was in complete agreement with Thranduil's words they were all practically still under command of Oropher. In a way, his own Galadhrim were as well. Somehow he had managed to take command of everything in sight and it was something Celeborn did not fully understand. It just... happened. But it was fine and well for Celeborn was no war lord and did not understand strategies and battle tactics well as the elven Kings he was surrounded by. He did, however, know how important it was to fully understand your enemy before charging in headfirst.

"You have a more tactical way about yourself, mellon nin, and I am certain your people would follow you without thought." He could only imagine what as going to happen when the Noldor got involved. He hoped Gil-galad did not try to abscond with _all_ the battle plans. He could not exactly see Oropher and the High King of the Noldor working together peacefully to establish a plan of attack.

"I hope he will realize and respect what you have to offer for strategy, Thranduil, for I refuse to run my people into the ground for him if he thinks it the right thing to do. He is reckless, mellon nin. And he is dangerous not only to others, but himself."

Thranduil agreed wholeheartedly with Celeborn's last statement. Oropher was something of a loose cannon with far too much gunpowder shoved up his ass. His hair-trigger temper resulted in mass slayings and his self-assured attitude meant he would listen to no-one, not even the Valar. He was his own elf, and a complete idiot in battle. One could hardly blame him for losing himself and going crazy against the enemy, but diverging from strategy on his own will was something many of the Silvan knew him for and did not wish to repeat.

Furthermore, he was _incredibly_ dangerous. Many times he had been near death and done nothing but laugh and revel in whatever fight he had been in that had almost taken his life. In his earlier years he had almost broken his wife's hands when he held them, thus having to teach himself how to be gentle by the time Thranduil came into being.  Shit was wrong with him, but he barely cared.

"You are a noble one, Celeborn. Willing to risk the wrath of Oropher the Reckless for your people." Thranduil chuckled softly with a saddened shake of his head. "I will try my best to ease his commands into something manageable for you, if I end up being second to him." There was a fierce look in his eyes then, and he raised his head. "I will be King. I was born for it."

No matter what happened, there was some deep sense of dread embedded into the pit of Celeborn's stomach. Whoever took the role of King mattered not, for either way there would be valuable lives lost. Nothing could be done to change that, though with Thranduil in command perhaps they would be able to minimize their losses. He reached to squeeze Thranduil's hand, hard enough to get the other elf to look him in the eye.

"Yes, you were, mellon nin. But do not let that stubborn attitude your House is most infamous for cloud your judgment of what is best for all of our people. I know Oropher cares little for anything save for glory and carnage. I trust that you will keep your wits about you."

Gods, Celeborn at least hoped so. He knew how Thranduil could get. He was well-meaning but a proud elf. In the distance as the grass began to fade into thick snow, a long, low sound of a horn echoed in the distance. "It appears as though we have been spotted." Celeborn murmured, eyes scanning the distance. He could see Elves dotting the mountains, and the pass that lie between two was low and barren upon appearance. The Noldor had alerted each other that their Sindarin and Silvan kin had arrived.

Thranduil squinted, and made out the tall, fair forms in dark clothing here and there amongst the endless white. It brought him joy to be able to see so far, and he smiled as he continued to hold Celeborn's hand.

 

The Noldor had been separated from the older elves, the Teleri and Vanyar who went off on their own zombie slaying adventures. Still, their group numbered three hundred thousand and combined with the new arrivals, were now at half a million. These were all the elves ever to have lived, thus being great in population, able to overthrow the Men if they wished.

 

 It was an hour before the Silvan, Sindar, Nandor, Galadhrim and Laegrim met with the Noldor, who just saw them as a bunch of wood-elves who didn't know how to fight. Ah, but they had never seen Thranduil's army, nor Celeborn's archers against Orcs and the like. Now, it was everyone against the undead. Warrior or not - everyone had to fight. There were even a few elflings in the group, those who had reached majority and were just beginning to train in weapons. Thranduil hoped Oropher wouldn't be too harsh on the younger folk who did not yet know how to fight with typical elven skill. Loss of precious immortal life was a terrible thing, but even more so when those who died had not had a chance to properly live.

 

Oropher's grip on his greatswords tightened, shifting them around on his broad shoulders. The Noldor were always so attentive and prim, it unnerved and annoyed him. He wondered what sort of welcome they would receive, having made the Noldor wait and maybe wait a little more overnight once they regained their strength from the incredibly long walk. With a heavy sigh, he marched on.

Thranduil dreaded the conversation that would come.

Ereinion Gil-galad had been alerted of the presence of their Woodland counterparts long before the trumpets and great horns sounded to denote their arrival. In times such as these he knew he would need to be careful of who he and his people trusted. Even though the elves were to work together he had never truly been trusting of the Silvan and the Sindar. Upon first suggestion that the elves band together to leave Aman and fight for Arda, the Noldor had been the first to strategize and respond. Admittedly, the last High King of the Noldor was more than a bit annoyed that Oropher had kept him waiting in this freezing cold place as his men ran low on supplies so that the Woodland elves might arrive when they damned well pleased to.

 

He had spent the past week in his tent pouring over maps and plans with Glorfindel and Elrond, two elves he trusted most to follow through with his strategy and carry it out to the best of their ability. The Noldor were careful, organized, and calculated, and Gil-galad had no intention on running into this war blind. Truly, they still did not know what they were up against.

 

The Helcaraxe was littered with great tents and banners set up by the Noldor, denoting various houses and lineages. The small city they had built for themselves over the past week was bustling with activity. Soldiers trained tirelessly, patrols circled the perimeter, and every able-bonded Noldorin elf was prepared and willing to give their lives for this greater cause that their King proposed. His own tent was buried deep within a cave protected by a small handful of soldiers. The Noldor did not care for the darkness but the stone walls helped shield them from the cold, wind, and ice better than being out in the open where the weather was far more perilous and far more unpredictable. The caves were long, deep, and wide, and the stones within covered in such a thick sheet of ice that it glittered black as though made of crystal. Careful steps had to be taken to and from anywhere in this place, for one wrong move could cause one to lose their footing.

 

It had been an hour that he had kept the Wood Elves waiting for, finally, Gil-galad decided it was time to see them. He commanded the guards standing watch before the entrance of his tent to deliver the House of Oropher before him. There was not enough room for the others and they would have to set up tents outside in the elements where many of his own people were. They would be provided food, shelter, and any clothing necessary for warmth.

 

He waited for them now, long dark hair falling loose about his shoulders and an elaborate crown woven in gold that cupped the back of his skull, tendrils of gold stopping at his temples. His cloak was thick and of a deep rich purple, his body bound in armor of bronze and gold plate, a set of pauldrons upon his shoulders curved and elegant, carved in such a way that there was no question of his status. He carried himself the way a King would. The Noldor were a proud people, intelligent, and careful.

 

\--

 

Thranduil walked with Celeborn, looking around at everything. Many of the sigils and banners he recognised, as did so many elves they looked to him with fond memories of the foster child of Lindon. A soft smile like rose petals atop fresh snow curved his reddened lips, for he continued to nibble at them so the wind wouldn't cause any unsightly cracks or skin texture.

"Tell me, Mellon... do you know anybody here? Will you be alright on our travels?" To Thranduil's knowledge, Celeborn didn't have a wife or daughter on his side, let alone closer friends who could keep him company in these freezing and dark times. Elrond was somewhat kin to Celeborn but their relations were a tad strained - a pity, Thranduil thought, for he loved them both and would eagerly walk with one on each arm as his closest friends and secret lovers.

Celeborn swallowed as his Galadhrim began to set up tents with the reluctance of the Noldor. He knew very few and did not wish to seek out Elrond. He was likely with Gil-galad or nearby, and he wished for no contact with the King of the Noldor. He looked to Thranduil. "I know very few here, mellon nin, but I shall be quite alright on my own." He smiled gently, reassuringly, at the elf before him as he moved to start help one of his men set up a tent. He held down a post with his boot as his silver hair whipped about his face in the wind. The visibility out here was dreadful and he could barely see Thranduil's silhouette in this weather. "You needn't worry about me. I have been on my own for several millennia. I will be fine."

Thranduil pressed a gentle hand to Celeborn's shoulder and smiled at him, wanting to let him know that he was not being abandoned forever.

"I must go and seek out some long lost friends, but if you ever need me just call." Sneakily he kissed the Sinda's pale cheek and slipped away, like a silver phantom all armour and grace. He wanted to meet with Elrond and apologise for what had happened in Mirkwood, and hopefully get some knowledge on the current situation. And secretly he hoped Elrond wouldn't notice Melkor's taint on the questionable Elvenking's soul.

The kiss upon Celeborn’s cheek was warm and he reached up with chilled fingers to touch where Thranduil's lips had once been and watch the King disappear into the snow. He sighed and turned his attention back to the tents they were setting up. He could not leave his people alone in this when they were forced to endure the snow out here.

 

He only hoped that Thranduil would be careful. He feared for his friend.

 

\--

 

Legolas' eyes moved over the vast number of tents and carefully shielded fires the Noldor had created in this barren wasteland of ice. There was a great cave decorated with the banners of Gil-galad's house, dark and deep and guarded by many. The Noldor had created their own city and for a moment Legolas wondered how long Oropher had kept them waiting. He knew his grandfather's hatred of these elves and his hand tightened around his bow. A dark-haired elf in full armor and a rich red cloak came to greet them at the mouth of the cave.

 

"Oropher of the Woodland Realm!" He called so that his voice might be heard over the high-pitched scream of the wind. Snow and ice hit their faces as they spoke and Legolas had to shield his own with his cloak. The weather was already proving to be more than brutal out in these parts. "My King requests the presence of your house in his tent." His dark eyes moved over the vast expanse of elves who had come with him. Many of the Noldor that were out and about lifted their heads to watch this interaction. They had been relatively separate in Aman, and seeing this many of the Silvan and Sindar was a surprise to all of them. "He says that tents are already being pitched for your people, and that they might find respite here until morning when we are to set off again."

 

Oropher squinted at the elf, his own white hair billowing in the snowy winds and eyes flicking about at all the Noldor. He was finally going to see his long lost love interest, the one he couldn't speak to without stuttering here and there while losing his mind in the presence of such an alluring form. He still had a crush on Gil-Galad. Great.

"Legolas, care to come with me? Your father seems to be somewhere else and one elf hardly consists of a house." Despite Oropher being the head of his own house he felt he needed a wingman or something in order to meet the High King. Gil-Galad was serious business, and though a lovely person to all his own folk he was a complete ass when speaking with any of the Sindar. Pushing his own ideas, not allowing room for negotiation outside his set limits, and essentially controlling and manipulating any situation to suit himself. It made Oropher nervous... and tested his anger management skills. Which were still nonexistent.

Legolas was almost shocked when Oropher asked him to accompany him to Gil-galad's tent. He had never met the other elf before but had heard stories about his legendary skill. Elbereth, there was a * _song_ * written about his skill on the battlefield. He was well loved by his people and was certainly a force to be reckoned with. However, having heard about the hatred shared between these two groups of elves, the Prince thought it his own duty and took it upon himself to ensure that no bloodshed would result from this evening. He nodded in agreement and followed his grandfather.

Oropher beckoned to Legolas halfheartedly and began walking to Gil-Galad's tent, tall and proud as he always held himself. Meeting foreign dignitaries? Buying a loaf of bread? Same stature, same dark, stern look in his eyes. He could do this. He was control and strength incarnate, he told himself. There was no such thing as fear. No.. such... Ah. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of that familiar silhouette in the tent, lit from the inside. And every thought of his melted.

 

Gil-galad's grey eyes moved from his maps to the two fair-haired elves that stood in the entrance now and felt his heart skip for a brief moment. None had taken a piece of him like Oropher of Mirkwood had. His face was impassive, however, as he raised his chin to look first at Oropher, and then to the smaller elf at his side. "You are not Thranduil Oropherion." He murmured, his voice as cool and smooth as silk when he spoke, his grey eyes sharp and piercing.

 

"No, your Majesty. I am his so, Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm." Legolas said moving to stand at Oropher's side. Gil-galad, although powerful and beautiful was still only an elf. Legolas did not fear him. This was the elf, after all, who had helped raise his father. He would not let harm fall upon him. Not one of Thranduil's blood. Perhaps Oropher was a different matter altogether, but at the moment, that did not matter.

Gil-galad chuckled softly and poured himself a goblet of wine, taking a sip and making no offer to the Woodland elves. He moved slowly towards Oropher, nearly of his height and broad of shoulder. His gaze moved slowly towards Legolas once again as he corrected him. "If I am to correct you, young Prince, a Woodland Realm there is no longer. The homes we once new are all but destroyed."

He moved to look at Oropher again, his eyes running over his form before snapping once more to meet the Sinda's gaze. "You are very late, Oropher. I suspect you Woodland elves have not learned yet to develop a sense of time perception."

Oropher stared into Gil-Galad's eyes before his face turned from forcibly calm to a somewhat fake sneer. "You can blame Thranduil and his wardrobe malfunctions for that." The snippy tone of his voice would have gone well with a hair toss and glittering high heels, but for now he wasn't even trying to be fabulous. He was a little tired, and didn't much feel like being chastised on lateness. Oropher took his time with things, unless making quick irrational decisions or attacking something. Now, he folded his arms across his chest and took a good long look at Gil-Galad. How he wanted to bury his hair in those luxurious dark locks, press his face to that finely toned neck and be enveloped in arms with such great strength he could feel secure. His gaze turned vacant, the sneery attempt all but gone in a few moments.

Gil-galad snorted. "I hope my guards made it clear to you that we shall be leaving on the morrow. I wished to be off several days prior to today but we seemed to be lacking the other half of our army."

He offered Oropher his glass of wine, cocking a dark eyebrow at him almost in challenge. "Drink?"

The Noldor looked at Legolas again but said nothing to him for the moment. "But since we are going to be delayed for one reason or another, I suggest that we make some time this evening to discuss our plans before we set foot in Arda."

Legolas looked up at Gil-galad, noting the strange power dynamics between the two elves before him but saying nothing on it. "I would ask to be included in those. I am well-versed in strategy, my Lord."

Gil-galad smiled slightly. Yes, this elf was certainly of Thranduil's brood. Headstrong and curious, wishing to be involved in everything and anything important. "Perhaps, young Legolas, should your grandfather allow it." He looked at Oropher. "He does not wish to give up control so _easily_."

While Thranduil searched for Elrond, he had no clue what was going on in Gil-Galad's tent.

Oropher accepted Gil-Galad's glass and drank from the spot where his keen eyes could see faint lip marks. Very very slightly he smiled, but it was more of a microscopic twitch at his lips than anything else. At the mention of strategy however he looked to Legolas with his curious emerald gaze.

"I would be loath to relinquish control and strategising opportunities away, especially at the dawn of this..." He gestured out the tent at all the soldiers gathered and indicated the premise of war "Whatever this is."

 

He didn't believe for one second that Legolas knew a thing about war. It was essentially chess with real lives, and though Oropher would never admit it, he barely understood it at all. He was all for killing the enemy until there was nothing left to fight. That was literally his strategy. Most of the time, it worked.

"Legolas, I would ask you soon to inform your father of who will be making the decisions around here. No doubt he has some foolish notion of kingship over our folk." Oropher's arrogant smirk would have vexed Thranduil to the point where a dramatic argument would unfold. Whoever delivered the message of the change in rank would be either dismissed or have their head chopped off.

Thranduil would not take the news well.

Legolas raised an eyebrow at his grandfather, obviously slightly appalled by what he was told and what was commanded of him. "My father is _also_ King, Daeradar. I shall not be the one to tell him otherwise. Does he not take rule over the people we brought into Aman? Surely there are enough elves for you both to rule and come to an agreement on."

Meanwhile, Gil-galad had barely been listening to what Legolas said, his eyes drawn to how Oropher sipped from the place he, too, had taken a drink from moments earlier. He felt his blood heat as he watched that slight twitch in his pink lips before he tore his eyes away to look at Legolas again. Lovely, lovely Legolas. He retained the most beautiful features from his people's forebearers; within him he could see hints of Oropher and Thranduil, though there was something graceful and lovely about him that was different from both. In his eyes and voice he heard a power and stubbornness that was honestly a little unnerving.

"What was that, little Prince? I do not think arguing with your grandfather here is very intelligent." Gil-gilad warned. "He is not... sound of mind enough to disagree with so openly."

He smirked and waited to see what would happen next. A young elf, even one of Oropher's blood questioning him? It was absolutely unheard of. It would be interesting to see Legolas' quality when the King was done with him.

"Not sound of mind?!" Oropher grumbled at Gil-Galad, very offended. He was entirely the type of elf to jump at anyone who may have insulted him and ask _"You callin' me stupid?!"_ even if he didn't get the meaning of what was said. Especially if he didn't. But now was not the time to have a go at the High King of the Noldor, not when they had just met.

"There's nothing wrong up here." he tapped the side of his head and turned to Legolas. "Your father was only King because I died. Splitting the loyalty of our armies is an absolutely terrible idea - many love Thranduil for his youthful enthusiasm and strategies, others follow me for being the first King of their folk and _the only one by **right**."_ With an indignant hmph, he drank a little more wine. "If you so blatantly refuse my orders then I shall tell Thranduil myself. Don't blame me if he comes out of the discussion completely wrecked."

Oropher absolutely hated being questioned, but did not know why he let Legolas get away with it. Most would have been halfway across the world by now with the force Oropher would smack them with. But Legolas... Well, Oropher knew how strong-willed his grandson was, and respected it. Just a little. He acted otherwise, but secretly was proud that Legolas would not bend to authority no matter how overpowering it was. He loved a challenge. At the right time, of course.

Gil-galad just stood back and smirked at Oropher. He loved how easily he could rile the other elf. He truly never meant any ill will by it but it was far too easy to ruffle his feathers. And ruffle his feathers he did, and then some. It was always so much more enjoyable with an audience. "Hardly." He just snorted aloud in response to Oropher tapping the side of his head to emphasize that he was, in fact, far more sound than just about anyone here. Gil-galad had known that was far from the truth. He had watched Oropher die shortly before he met his own demise, and it was because he had been foolish and headstrong with a bloodlust that could not be sated. He hadn't listened to a damned word Gil-galad or anyone else said.

Legolas, on the other hand, was bristling. "By right? Your _right_ as King was revoked upon your passing, Daeradar. Yes, Adar was next in line to the throne, but upon your death it was given up. Our people would choose him time and time again to lead if any choice was given at all." Legolas knew he spoke out of turn but he cared not. Gil-galad's clear amusement dancing across the Noldor's face only served to annoy the Prince more. He did not want to bend or give in, but he also had no desire to watch Thranduil and Oropher but heads in what would be a rather loud and dramatic event that would leave none unscathed.

Gil-galad smirked in Oropher's direction. "I would have thought you might have had this little familial issue resolved _before_ you reached my company, Oropher. Apparently not. How are we to win this war when there is constant and foolish bickering between a _family_?" He turned his back with a swish of a dark cloak and the soft clank of his armor as he moved to fill a glass of his own. "Really, Oropher, you have not changed a bit. Still pigheaded and absolutely unreasonable. Your grandson seems to have some sense, or at the very least some careful _diplomacy_ about him that you are clearly lacking in. Even after all these years you have developed no manners whatsoever."

Oropher did not know where to start rebuking Gil-Galad for the torrent of insulting things he said. And in front of Legolas, too! Well, this certainly wouldn't do. There was no way he was going to stand and be insulted by a damned Noldor whose handsome smirk grew more irritating by the second.

 

Many knee-jerk reactions and biting words flew through his mind and the one he decided to entertain was thus: the involuntary clench of his fist that cracked the stem of the wine glass he held, followed by casting it to the ground.

"You know _nothing_ , Ereinion." he growled, all pretence of formality and an inside voice completely gone. "We are just as organised and with military might far greater than yours." Oropher really believed that, even though the Silvan with their precisely timed marching and shooting methods turned into absolute berserkers in close combat. Eyes icy with anger, he turned his entire body towards Legolas and glared down at him.

"It would do you well to learn your place, _prince_. Just as your father will have to when he realises nobody is bound by rank to worship his pretty face. A delicate flower with a poisonous tongue is not one I would look to as a fellow King. I think I shall go and tell him."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the tent, being an elf who came and went as he pleased without care for anything at all.

Thranduil was still innocently wandering about, remembering Quenya which all the Noldor spoke and was quite reminiscent of his childhood. He knew Oropher wouldn't let him speak the language as he kept Thingol's ban on it from back in Doriath, but there was no harm in brushing up on his skills in secret. He was amongst the Noldor one minute and Silvan the next, as many of them looked to him as a sign of hope and clear thought to lead them all.

 

Oropher was coming for him.

 

As Oropher left after a small tantrum, Legolas' blue eyes met the glittering grey orbs of Gil-galad's. A breathy Westron curse came from Legolas' lips that made the Noldo chuckle and the Prince stood rooted before him for a moment, clearly torn.

Gil-galad smirked and set his glass of wine down casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? Are you not going to go after him, Princeling?"

Legolas just snarled in frustration and raced after Oropher, who was making purposeful strides after Thranduil, wherever he went. Legolas feared his grandfather could likely even smell him. Their people had senses as keen as the animals they dwelt with. It was not long before he lost him in the sea of white and Noldor elves. He had a sinking feeling that he would hear him soon, at the very least. This was not going to go well at all.

He sighed and asked some nearby Galadhrim if they had seen his grandfather and they pointed in the direction he had gone, and Legolas was off once again. He knew he had little power to sway Oropher, but perhaps he could keep Thranduil from completely blowing his lid.

Oropher could smell Thranduil, and it was quite frankly a little unnerving. He followed his nose all the way to his son and addressed him from behind.

"Thranduil!" his voice was loud, booming and drew the attention of just about anyone with ears. "I must speak with you about something." Oropher tried to go into things with tact but really just wanted to state things and be done with it.

It was never really that easy.

"Well be quick about it." said Thranduil, looking up at his father. "I was looking for someone."

 _'Someone to fuck, no doubt...'_ Oropher thought bitterly to himself, before shaking his head and straightening himself up.

"I wish to inform you that you shall no longer be King."

There was an outcry from the Silvan, and murmuring from the Noldor.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. The debate had begun.

It did not take long for Legolas to find Oropher especially when he started to speak. It was with such a deep and booming voice Legolas feared that his grandfather might cause the mountains to shift in such a way that he might cause an avalanche. There was a soft muttering from the crowd of elves and Legolas had moved to Oropher's side and touched his arm. "Enough." He said sharply, trying to be tactful. His eyes moved from Thranduil, back to Oropher.

"Can we not do this later?" Or never? Preferably never.

Oropher roughly shouldered Legolas away, as if saying he didn't need or want any closeness from anyone at all.

"What, and have Gil-Galad laugh at me for the next few months? We are doing this here, and we are doing it _now_." His dark brows had furrowed into a permanent scowl, eyes bright with fierce and determined anger.

 It was not long before Elrond had heard the commotion. His head was already throbbing. Why did Oropher have to be so damned loud? He found Legolas, Oropher, and Thranduil encircled by various Silvan and Noldor elves. He pushed through the crowd and stood at Thranduil's side, frowning, his brow furrowing so much it seemed to have several of its own frowns.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Oropher didn't mind Elrond and chose to ignore him, as he always did when he was focussing on something.

Thranduil stood beside Elrond for solidarity but was close to crumbling at Oropher's next words.

"Two Kings cannot rule one folk, Thranduil. I hope you don't mind being a prince again."

Thranduil felt as if his face had been squished in by an iron mallet. His father's words hit him stronger than the weapons he'd held a little while ago.

"Adar you must be mad, for I would never give up the position I was born into, the position you died for. Come now. None of us even have crowns and yet there is one who would be taken as King."

"Yes, that's me." said Oropher as he gestured to the Silvan "Were it not these folk who took me as their leader in the early Second Age, these elves who saw my royal house fit to rule?"

Thranduil made a fierce cutting gesture with his hand off to the side as if dismissing Oropher's words entirely. 

"Was it not these folk who followed a broken prince and were brought from the brink of extinction to survival in a realm plagued by evil? Your 'leadership' killed them, your negligence created a rule of fear. They will look to you no longer."

At that, Oropher's anger spiked to the beginning of a rant.

"They _will_ look to me, for a prince you were and shall forever be! As long as I live I will hold my position and you dare not speak against me. I am your father, damn it. And also your King."

Thranduil couldn't believe what he was hearing.

This was not Elrond's place to get involved but he placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder, fingers tightening firmly to let him know that it would be best that he stepped down, at least for now. He leaned in close to whisper against the other's ear for a moment. "Just accept it, Thranduil... His words mean nothing for now. You wear no crowns. Your people will only follow him for so long but as soon as things go south they will look to your leadership again. Save face, mellon nin."

Legolas knew how deeply Oropher's words cut him and he could feel it acutely within himself. Their connection was still there, and while he did not realize it, Melkor was witnessing this through the stone Thranduil bore with absolute delight. His darkness was already starting to spread and he hardly had to do anything at all. Already, the elves began to crumble; such delicate creatures they were.

The Prince's blue eyes met his father's briefly, and he wondered if the King could see him at all through his shock and rage. He stood beside Oropher, knowing he had no words in this fight. He would, however, be there to see that this did not get too out of hand. It was well on its way if Thranduil did not make down. He looked to Elrond then, hoping he was a voice of reason for his father.

_"Please, Adar..."_

Oropher was ready to start throwing a tirade of bullshit reasoning and thinly veiled insults at his son. Before he could get any further however, he was interrupted.

 

"I will not stand for this!" snarled Thranduil, knowing he was fighting a losing battle for everyone lost against his father.

 

"Then sit." sneered Oropher, dismissing his son with a forceful open palm gesture to the side. And Thranduil did just that, though he told himself it was out of his own free will and not for his father's bidding. He glared sharply at Oropher and held for as long as he could focus on those emerald green eyes without spitting at the King's cold face, then stormed off with head held high and entire body stiff.

 

Oh, he was absolutely shaking with the rage and humiliation his father had forced upon him. For over three thousand years Thranduil had been King, the last and greatest in all of Arda. His people had loved, followed, fought for and respected him. Those very same people would now look to him as a prince - small and pretty, with a sword and circlet shining like the reflection of moonlight on plastic. He felt like a treacherous fakery of an elf, low and horrid as his father had revealed to every Sinda and Silvan in existence that Thranduil, son of Oropher was not worthy to be King.

 

Away from the elves he strode, the evening gloom swallowing him into its darkness as if Melkor himself reached from the shadows and pulled the fallen Elvenking into his embrace. But Thranduil was alone, wishing to be so till the end of all days would allow the world to forget this moment. He sat heavily upon a rock with his feet planted in the snow, lights faint and behind him and no sound from the vacant tents nearby. Without thought he reached into the tent to his right and found a bottle of wine by scent and feel alone, ignoring the fact that it wasn't his and would probably have to be someone's rationed drink. Thranduil did not care. He needed his convenient well to drown all sorrows in and damn the fool who tried to stop him. Who carried wine in bottles while traveling anyway? The glass was heavy in his hand, and for a moment he thought to smash it against the ground and set fire to the bloodlike sweetness. Maybe he could burn with it and feel some other pain. Anything other than this.

 

He uncorked the bottle and drank, swallowing thickly both wine and emotion with eyebrows furrowed and knuckles white. Thranduil leaned down and set his arms to rest on his knees, hunched over with the dark green of his cloak falling to cover his body. He was a King, or at least had been - he did not belong in such a position of defeat. Yet he felt his heart twist at the memory of long ago when he had been crowned a young prince, of his father's cold fingers trailing along his jawline as if he cared, only to wrench the proverbial crown from his son's head now and shame him before their people - and could not bear to straighten his back. Thranduil kept his eyes forced open for if he closed them, silvery tears like drops of mercury would form upon his eyelashes and stream uncontrollably down his face. He at least had to hold himself strong. As best he could.

Legolas watched Thranduil storm off and just as he was about to leave Oropher's side to follow him, he saw Elrond disappear into the shadows after him. He paused and reached out to his father, expecting to feel nothing in return. All this way they traveled and had not spoken a single word to each other. He hated it. All of it. Even with Thranduil back and safe, he did not truly feel as though he had returned.

He turned icy blue eyes to Oropher and hissed under his breath as the elves around them began to go about their activities when Thranduil had departed, still whispering to one another. "Why did you do that? You had no right to do that in front of all of our people. You _humiliated_ him, Daeradar."

"I have every right." growled Oropher, looking both triumphant and hostile towards Legolas. "Be happy I am not forcing him to tie his hair like you, to really show that he is a prince. He will be better off this way. Really." There was challenge in his voice for Legolas to say something, to speak out against his King. Oropher was floating in the clouds on his win and felt he could dominate anyone.

Legolas glared daggers at Oropher, his eyes narrowing. He made threats towards the Prince that could barely even scrape the surface. He cared not for his own status. He could be demoted to nothing more than a lowly guard and he would care not. He cared for his father's pride. Perhaps he did have a right to do as he did in a way. Oropher was King after all, but so was Thranduil. But the way he went about it was poor and Legolas sought to make him realize that. He brushed past him none too gently and snarled on his way. "Thank the Valar you were so _generous_ , Daeradar." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. A few Silvan elves overhead a bit of their scuffle and looked up, eyes widening and wondering if there was going to be another scene.

Oropher wanted to say something but since Legolas had disappeared just as quickly as he'd come, he decided against it. He couldn't be bothered chasing after even more arguments when what he really felt like doing was going back to boast at Gil-Galad for how quickly he had resolved the 'familial issues'.

Legolas had moved past the crowds of elves and into a more secluded place. He did not enter the caves again, but instead allowed himself to walk amongst the Noldor and the Sindar and Silvan elves alike. The wind had begun to die by there was chill in the air and snow still fell heavily about the elves. Some had created fires that glittered red and orange in the night, a stark contrast from white and black that surrounded him. He walked along the length of the encampment alone. It was vast and expansive, and one could walk for days. The skies were a deep red, the color of blood. If he walked to the edge he would feel the sudden change of the air, smell death and fire. For now, he would not walk so far. He kept close to his people but secluded himself all the same. He felt alone, in the times of darkness again he felt forsaken in a way, though he knew Thranduil had not intended to do that. But there was something about him that was quite unlike himself and it made the Prince fearful of him in a way he could not understand. Oropher angered him deeply and he realized that while well-liked by many, he had no others to confide in. He did not reach for his father through their connection, thinking it would be selfish if he did for himself in his father's time of need.

Slowly, Legolas knelt in the snow and felt the cold ice beneath his knees, the wetness that seeped through the fabric of his breeches. His golden hair whipped around his face as blue eyes stared into the distance. They were all alone in this in a way. They fought as one but truly, so many fought this war for themselves and their own gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( holy fucking shit Oropher got totally REKT by Gil-Galad LMAOOOO dis boi can't fight with words at all compared to that leleleleel ))
> 
> 10k chapter wow. Some of my other fics don't even get this long haHA
> 
> NB: Nandor: little group of elves who are similar to the Silvan, only more peaceful and live around waterfalls in forests. Closer to the sea and love the simple life. Galion and Liliel are Nandor.  
> Laegrim: Green-elves, incredibly tiny population of elves who are vegan, wear only green and live where there's long grass and leafy trees. Kinda like fairies lmao. Gilneth ( Thranduil's healer dude ) is of the Laegrim.


	27. 5-2 : Zombie Arda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that drama sure does have its consequences!

Elrond had followed Thranduil into the darkness. Thranduil was vulnerable, and he would not see the other elf alone this night after what had just happened. To be demoted in front of the people who had followed and respected him for several millennia? Well, Elrond could not even comprehend what Thranduil was beginning to feel. He knelt down beside the King and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, saying nothing but letting the other know he was there.

Thranduil did not wish for his face to be seen and was grateful for his hood when Elrond came to sit beside him. A low whine escaped his throat and quietly he shifted to be closer, his body touching Elrond's and their broad shoulders level. He wanted to press his face into the Peredhel's neck and just melt. But he had to be strong not only for himself now but for Elrond too. Elrond who had seen him weak, Elrond who had healed him, Elrond who loved him. Elrond would stay with him tonight. He could feel it.

Elrond felt Thranduil lean into him and remained quiet by his side. He reached down to take the bottle carefully from his hand and held one in his own, squeezing the warm, slender fingers gently. He had seen Thranduil at his worse. There was nothing for him to be ashamed of now. He did not offer him sympathy for he was almost certain the Sinda King did not wish for it.

"I will stay with you tonight, Thranduil." He finally murmured softly. "Let us not sit here in the cold. You are welcome to share my tent tonight if you wish."

Thranduil would not have minded a bit of sympathy, but the time for that was to be later on when he was busy feeling sorry for himself and wished to be comforted by his dear friends. At this moment he wanted to drink himself into a stupor but Elrond would clearly not let that happen, from care and worry rather than denial.

"I accept your offer..." he whispered, voice hollow and eyes still wide. "But let us go in secret..." Thranduil did not wish to be seen.

With his cloak tightly wrapped around his armored body, the former King rose with a little less natural majesty than usual. He tugged Elrond to come with him, still not meeting his eyes. Elrond could read an elf's soul through the look in their eyes and Thranduil just wasn't ready for what might come of that now.

Elrond moved carefully with Thranduil in the darkness, keeping him far from the others. He waved his guards away from the opening of his tent silently, and when they reached it it was lit with candles in preparation for the night. A thick rug was lain over the cold stone and ice and in one corner a bed. Another, his desk and various maps and stacks of books upon it: a small taste of Imladris. A mannequin was at the far end of the tent , a place to rest Elrond's armor. He moved to pour a glass of wine for himself and for Thranduil, as well as a set of warm clothes for the elf. "Take your things off, mellon nin, and have a drink with me." He smiled slightly. "I would offer you a fine meal but I fear we are not in the Last Homely House anymore."

Thranduil was very grateful for Elrond's hospitality and removed his cloak, setting it on a far corner of the rug along with his armour.

"You are too kind..." he said softly and moved to change into the warmer clothes provided, finding himself in a comfortable tunic that wasn't too tight but had enough thickness to ensure survival throughout the winter. Now he was in silvery green with a few swirling patterns in complimenting shades of blue - nothing he wore would clash with his cloak or armour in the morning.

He took the drink that was offered and gulped it down, silently requesting more but knowing they had to ration their supplies. Standing closer to Elrond, he rested his head on the Peredhel's shoulder. That scent and feeling was incredibly comforting - exactly what he needed this terrible night.

Elrond moved to refill Thranduil's glass with his own. The Sinda needed it more than him, anyways. He began to remove his own armor, dressing the figure at the far side of the room until he himself was dressed down in dark maroons and silvers. He stood beside Thranduil again, and as the elf had rested his head upon his shoulder, he was reminded that this was a very different elf than the one he had encountered in Rivendell all those months ago, the one who had been so fearful of his son. This one was more akin to the elf he had seen burning a second time in his own home at Galadriel's hands.

He moved to press a kiss to the top of Thranduil's head, watching the candlelight cast their shadows on the walls of his tent.

"You will be king again, Thranduil, I have no doubt." He took his hand and guided him to the bed, sitting upon the edge with him. "Tell me, my friend, how have you occupied yourself in Aman all this time before now? Surely you were granted some peace and quiet before the storm hit yet again." Elrond smiled kindly, reaching to touch Thranduil's cheek and gently ease him to look him in the eye.

Thranduil's head turned as he settled onto the bed, close to Elrond and warmed from the wine. It was then that he met his friend's eyes, cool grey and wise beyond measure.

"I had spent time in my father's palace... Went wandering... Felt the grass beneath my feet and the wind in my hair..." He was truthful yet took care in what he said. Elrond did not need to know the Dark Lord had taken residence in Thranduil's mind.

"I had meant to see you... And apologise for being such a damned coward..." Though he did not hang his head, there was a need for forgiveness in his gaze which openly looked to Elrond for acceptance. Here was a fallen King needing comfort and support, with a friend who could give it and so much more. One of Thranduil's hands found its way to Elrond's thigh and rested there in a gesture of gentle intimacy. He sought to be understood, for them to communicate without words. Ancient elves were generally good at that sort of thing... And Thranduil found it embarrassing to speak of matters when he had been at fault.

While Elrond had not agreed with the way Thranduil had dealt with things before his death at Galadriel's hands, he was wise enough at least to know and understand where the King was coming from. He reached down to place a pale hand over Thranduil's upon his thigh, grey gaze moving to hold the King's, unwavering.

"There is nothing at all to forgive, mellon nin." He leaned in to brush his lips against Thranduil's cheek, stroking the side of his face as his penetrating gaze could read all that the other had in his mind. He was one of the wisest elves in all of Middle Earth and was terribly good at reading others. He, too, could sense something amiss in Thranduil's mind, but he did not question him. Now was not the time. He did, however, note how Thranduil seemed to look at him more clearly, as though his sight was whole. He scrutinized the other elf for a long moment before brushing a lock of stray hair behind his ear.

"You did what you felt was right. I cannot fault you for that. Not now, and not ever."

"Oh, Elrond..." Thranduil leaned into every touch and smiled as he realised the bond he had with Elrond transcended all misdoings and errant thoughts. What the Peredhel said made sense, more so than many things Thranduil had heard as of late. And he felt a little better, a little less at fault for all that had come to pass. Elrond had hurt him when he'd spoken of cowardice for Thranduil's decision so many months ago (eight to be precise) but now it seemed all was well once again.

Leaning forwards now, he kissed Elrond very lightly by the corner of his lips.

"I am glad I have you, mellon nín." he said with a lovely serene tone "Often you will be there for me when others are unwilling. And I hope to do the same for you."

When Thranduil leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, Elrond's breath caught in his throat and his body stiffened slightly. He had always been a more fatherly type of figure, never wishing to overstep boundaries when it came to intimacy, the voice of reason until Thranduil practically begged him and he could resist the other elf no longer. He inclined his head slightly, his hand still upon the other's cheek, cupping it gently. He ran his thumb lightly along his elegant cheekbone.

"To know that you will not suffer alone eases my heart, Thranduil." He frowned slightly, his lips falling into a downward curve that was far more natural than a smile. Elrond could not remember the last time he truly smiled. His days had been dark for centuries. "You speak as though you have none at all to care for you or understand you. What about your Little Leaf?" He said, referring to Legolas. He knew how deeply Thranduil cared for his son. He would risk the world for him. "Where is he now? Surely he understands you better than any at all. Even myself."

"My precious little Legolas..." Thranduil sighed at the thought of his son. "How can I face him after what I have been through? He will not respect me after seeing what my father has done..." Thranduil was in fact very embarrassed to say anything at all to Legolas, now that they were both princes under a tyrannical King. "How can I look him in the eyes after having submit and been dethroned in front of our people?"

He nuzzled Elrond's hand with his nose, and took a sip of wine. Elrond was always enjoyable to get close to and act coy around, for it came naturally to Thranduil to kiss and touch as was common for the Sinda when around his friend. He did know not to make Elrond uncomfortable however and kept things at a certain level, treading the fine line between romance and companionship.

"How can you not?" Elrond said gently, but firmly. He did not know Legolas well but suspected that the Prince cared little for titles and statuses. When he had arrived in Imladris for Elrond's Council several months past, he wore nothing to denote himself as a Prince and earned his companion's respect with his actions and words of wisdom greater than his years, not a shining circlet. "Something tells me that your son would accept you no matter if you were a great Vala or a lowly peasant."

His hand drifted from Thranduil's soft cheek to take his hand in his own. He ran the pad of his thumb gently across the elf's knuckles, over the rings that adorned his fingers. "As would I, Thranduil." He lowered his eyes to look at Thranduil's hands and sighed deeply. His shoulders were slightly hunched in thought as they always were, for Elrond was a thinker and rarely allowed his mind to rest. He enjoyed their closeness, however. "As would all of your people. This is no permanent thing. There is something in your future, in the future of your family that I have sensed, though it has been shrouded by darkness and shadow, that I am fearful of. Something that will change everything as you know it. But..." He shook his dark head and did not meet Thranduil's eyes. "I cannot place it."

"Should I be worried?" asked Thranduil, also looking at his pale, slender hand with its three rings upon it. He had never given up any of his jewelry for he wore it almost at all times, many silver rings of twisted branches and the large moonstone ring that denoted his sovereignty over the Woodland Realm. Oropher had not yet taken that from him, even though it had originally belonged to him. At least Thranduil was still allowed to look remotely kingly.

He wondered if his fate involved Melkor eating his brain from the inside and turning him into a vessel of darkness in fair form. Or perhaps Legolas would become changed, Oropher would go absolutely mad, Liliel would turn into a merciless killer... More wine found itself past Thranduil's lips. He didn't want to think about the future now. Anything pressing and Oropher or Elrond would tell him. Their foresight was fairly focussed and conveniently available - something he could rely on.

Elrond did not know how to answer Thranduil's question. They all had reason to fear and to worry. The Sinda was fragile now and he did not seek to send him over the edge with fear and doubt when so much was taken from him and already so uncertain. He traced long pale fingers over the moonstone that one of Thranduil's fingers bore. His own hands were free of rings save for Vilya, though he suspected Gil-galad would wish to remove it from his person soon so that he would have more complete control over their people. He was powerful, but Elrond had wielded her power for so long that it was effortless. Finally, when he spoke, he was still frowning, brow furrowed.

"I cannot tell you no. But there are things that even I cannot see, Thranduil. I wish I could tell you more, but many elven lives will be lost at the end of this. Our cause will not fail but the losses on our side will be exponential. You will lose some close to you, some you do not care for, and some you hate."

 _"There is more he is not telling you, beloved one. The Half-Elf is fearful that you shall snap and crumble beneath the weight of the news he will bear you so he remains silent."_ Came a cool caress at the back of Thranduil's mind, a gentle pulse in the jewel at his throat. A reminder.

 _'Does he think me so weak..?’_ Thranduil thought to himself, mentally leaning into the touch of knowledge Melkor offered. 'Well I cannot blame him after he has seen me so low...'

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Thranduil was one to know all he could, never wanting to be as ignorant as his father. Excellent at deluding himself and even better at shaping reality to suit his needs, he would take a situation and find a way to change it for the better. Elrond hid something from Thranduil and the latter did not know. This irked him mildly but he did not press the issue. After all, he wasn't supposed to know this. Elrond had no clue about Thranduil's extended mind, courtesy of the all-seeing Melkor.

What Elrond knew may spur him in the future to pity Thranduil, or build closer relations in order to support him when things all fell apart.

For what the destiny the House of Oropher held was a thing none could truly survive in one piece.

_"He thinks you a delicate flower, precious one. One that has been trodden upon over and over again until it hardly even looks like a flower anymore. If you inquired further he would lie to you. Now is not the time to ask unless you wish for him to shut you down."_

Elrond's frown deepened as Thranduil's eyes narrowed the slightest bit but he continued to say nothing. He could see the wheels in his head turning, however, it concerned him. He reached to shake Thranduil's shoulder gently to rouse him from whatever thoughts he was having. "Mellon nin?"

Melkor's words angered Thranduil, for how dare anyone lie to one of royal blood? He who had been King, fought battles, lived over six and a half thousand years, died and rose again. Thranduil hated the mere notion of being lied to almost as much as he hated the act itself.

He knew he was delicate, Oropher had named him such in the earliest years of his life. But as far as flowers went, he was a sentient killing machine that would shred anything that tried to step on him... unless relationships and politics were at play.

It was a delayed moment after Elrond shook him that Thranduil startled, a mean look in his eyes yet face frozen stiff. He said nothing, but perused his friend's expression as if reading a scroll of world history. Just what was Elrond hiding?

There was another force at play in the elf and Elrond was slightly startled at the look on the King's face. He removed the wine from his hands and grasped both of his cheeks, forcing Thranduil to look at him. No, something was not right at all. His own grey eyes narrowed. "What is wrong with you?" He whispered.

"That is enough, Thranduil." He said after another moment with no reply. "Speak to me."

_"Mind yourself, beloved. Play your cards well and you will have your heart's desires in the end. He is suspicious of you. You are not hiding yourself well at the moment. Do you intend to be so very obvious? This is an elf not so easily fooled.."_

Thranduil puffed out his cheeks in Elrond's hands and put on his best calm, serene gaze. The change was slow and melted into his whole expression until he looked once more like the haughty Elvenking sitting atop his throne. Even with puffer fish cheeks he took a moment to collect himself and then smile.

"What? Can't keep your hands off me?" he grinned, shifting closer to Elrond with any suspicious looks all but gone.

_'Forgive me. I am not yet used to hiding things from Elrond... I have never really needed to.'_

Elrond's smile came slowly, but it was uneasy and forced as the strange expression faded into the haughty smirk of the elf he knew so well. He released the King's cheeks as they slowly deflated and laughed softly, nervously. "I feared you have gone somewhere, mellon nin." He looked slightly appalled that the King would call him out that way and pressed his own hands back into his lap, his pale cheeks flushing slightly.

"I have full control of my hands and where they go, I'll have you know."

_"You shall have to learn hide your feelings thus at times. I am your voice of reason in these dark times, beloved. These elves will lead you astray if you let them. You must be careful."_

_'We shall see about that.'_ thought Thranduil, who was not yet sure which side to be on. He barely knew what he was doing here! Was he going to usurp the position of King and lead the elves to their deaths for the Dark Lord? Or would he endeavour to eradicate evil and help create a better world?

"It's a shame they aren't all over me more often.." he murmured with a flirty wink, reaching for his wine glass and downing it before setting it back on the table. Staying away from the topic of what had just happened seemed like the best idea, and he inwardly thanked Melkor for warning him about Elrond's somewhat unreadable suspicions.

Elrond's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson. Thranduil fancied himself irresistible, and in many ways he was. But unfortunately for the Sinda it could be quite tedious to convince Elrond to be anything less than proper around him. Thranduil's sudden changes from saddened, to fearful, to angry, and then to flirtatious was confusing for the Peredhel who did not truly know what to make of all this.

"I have not seen you since you came to Aman, Thranduil. Had you paid me a visit during your wanderings they might have been. Now that we are on the brink of war do you think I merely seek a warm bed and pleasurable comfort?"

Thranduil sighed. His moods were flipping all about and he had absolutely no clue why. Why could he not stay in one frame of mind for once? It frightened and confused him.

"I know you do not seek a lover in these times, for comfort at night and someone to lie beside is essentially all you would want from me. Right?" There was no accusation or disappointment in his voice, rather he just sounded like he was stating facts.

While in Aman he had wanted to visit Elrond, truly he had. But the time had not come, he hadn't visited the city of the Noldor and everything went to hell before he could even try.

Melkor had gotten to him first.

"Oh, mellon nín... You worry about too much. You need to relax, take a bit off your mind sometimes." Thranduil ran his fingers through Elrond's dark hair and wished to offer him comfort. It was strange, the way they both moved from being vulnerable and strong to worrisome and caring. Thranduil was distracting himself from his previous emotions by concerning his mind with Elrond, and didn't want to think at all about being a Prince whose family would soon break.

 

He rested his face on the Peredhel's shoulder and hugged him tight.

"Perhaps we should sleep if your mind threatens to run with the world's problems?"

Elrond found himself leaning into Thranduil's touches despite himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and reached to close his fingers around the Sinda's. "You know that I am mostly incapable of relaxing, mellon nín." He sighed, finally resigning himself to the fact that this might be the last time in a while that he would be able to. It was clear he was reluctant at first, worried, and hesitant. He met Thranduil's eyes and smiled slightly.

His arms threaded around Thranduil's waist as he pulled the other in for a tight embrace. "There will be time for sleep this night. My mind is still running with all of the problems of this world and the next. How do you propose I try to relax?"

"There are many ways one can relax.." Thranduil murmured, his voice low and smooth. "You could tell me what is on your mind..." His hands slipped lower until they encircled Elrond's waist, body curling like a snake until he was behind him "Lie with me tonight and forget the world... A light breath across the shell of Elrond's ear, combined with the touch of his fingertips playing at the hem of Elrond's tunic "Or I could massage the tension from those shoulders of yours. You are so sweet, mellon nín... It just won't do for you to be so stressed."

Thranduil and Elrond both needed distractions from their problems and secrets. Though Thranduil was very reliant upon whoever he could get at this point, he was not yet completely dependent on his friends and lovers for support. And so, he was able to look after Elrond's worries without thinking too much on his own.

Elrond closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall forward, a small shiver running up the curve of his spine as he felt Thranduil's warm breath encircle his ear. He wanted Thranduil, he always wanted him, but oftentimes he denied himself simply because he was Elrond. There was far too much on his mind many times to think about pleasure or lovemaking. To think about his own needs was selfish and Elrond was one of the least selfish creatures in all of this world. He reached behind himself, arms encircling Thranduil from behind and forcing the other a  little closer until their bodies were pressed flush together.

"A massage would be lovely, Thranduil." He smirked softly down at his boots, dark hair falling heavy over his shoulders. "But I do wonder when was the last time you were the one giving the massage rather than receiving."

"Come now... you make it sound as if I am your number one client for the greatest massages in Arda. I would gladly ease your tension just as you have done so for me in the past." Thranduil's lips brushed against Elrond's ear with every long, drawled syllable of the soft Sindarin words he spoke. His long fingers pressed beneath thick, warm robes and contacted heated skin which twitched at the sudden contact. Gently he rubbed circles into Elrond's lower belly, where he could feel the firmness of toned abdominal muscles beneath. Higher he went; mapping contours of skin he was not as familiar with as he would have liked.

"It is a little cold for you to disrobe.." he whispered, pressed so close to Elrond it was almost as if they had no clothes between them at all. His sensitive skin could feel both fabric and heat, and oh he wanted so badly to slip into Elrond's tunic and sleep with him like that! But for now he would take things slow... sensual... relaxing.

Elrond let out the softest sigh as Thranduil's warm fingers began to work their magic, leaning back against the Sinda as his words weaved images in his mind of silken sheets and naked flesh. He had said nothing of it but Thranduil had a strange and sensual way of making everything electrifying and sexual. Elrond could not complain, however, and did not. He reached to undo the buttons of his tunic so that Thranduil would have better access.

"Perhaps not, but you are probably everyone else's client in all of Arda." He chuckled softly. "But your fingers are quite practiced so I shall not complain."

As his tunic and robe fell to the floor between them, Elrond turned in Thranduil's arms and smiled, brushing a long lock of golden hair from his chest, placing it behind his shoulder. "I find that I am quite warm, Thranduil, but you may keep your clothing on if you wish."

He stilled Thranduil's hands and guided the other elf towards the large bed pressed against one wall of his tent. It was not as large as his own in Imladris and rather makeshift, but it was soft enough to sleep decently upon. Elrond would typically resist more than this but as the moments progressed he realized how long it had been since he had had another and allowed himself to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.

"Would you lay with me, Thranduil?"

"Anytime." Thranduil barely suppressed a devilish grin at having gotten Elrond to cave in so easily. Normally there would be a game of mental chess at work to get this particular elf to unwind enough to enjoy the pleasures of life. Or as Thranduil knew it, getting drunk off his ass and fucking anything with a pulse.

He was only slightly buzzed from the wine but kept his wits about him, and opened his thickly layered tunic. His body was just as pale and beautiful as it had always been, little pink nipples sticking up from the difference in temperature while nude.

"I shall keep us both warm..." he purred and lowered Elrond onto the bed, getting on top of him and pulling the blankets over. "Just tell me where to start."

"I blame you that I cave so easily for you tonight. I blame the fact that I haven't had another in my bed since I took you back in Imladris." Elrond murmured as his eyes moved over Thranduil's fair form, reaching up to run an appreciative hand over a chest as pale as snow. His brow furrowed now even as he looked up at Thranduil, his lips curved up into the slightest smirk.

"Do you realize how utterly manipulative you are? You Woodland elves must have some dark magic about you that I do not know about or understand. I have always thought thus but now you are proving it." He took Thranduil's hand and ran it down his own throat, over his chest, and to his ribs. His skin was hot to the touch, a delightful change from the cool night air that surrounded the two blanketed elves. "You may start wherever your heart desires. This may be the last time before everything goes to hell, Thranduil. Tonight I will allow you to feast as you like. Do not think you will get such an opportunity handed to you on a silver platter like this."

"Oh, Elrond... You won't be able to resist my dark seduction and love forever. We shall have many opportunities yet in our immortal lives... don't think this will be the last." Thranduil absolutely loved to feast on his lovers without need for control or restraint, and pressed his lips to Elrond's throat while both hands ran down the sides of his body. Licking and sucking, he relished this almost forbidden taste that had been locked away for so long. He groped and stroked, fondled wherever he pleased. All his silvery blonde hair spread over his back, shoulders and over Elrond's upper body. His eyes were half lid but he could see clearly the fine beauty of the elf before him.

"Mmm..." Licking his lips, he drew back and after having marked Elrond's neck in several places, dove in for a searingly hot kiss. With passion he touched and pressed with every point of contact his body could offer, grinding just a little with his flexible hips.

He wanted this. Now, and forever.

Thranduil went to work upon Elrond’s body like a feast and Elrond hissed softly between clenched teeth as he found himself unwittingly arch towards the other's touches as he was laid bare before him. He turned his head to the side, fists clenching in an attempt to maintain some small measure of control as Thranduil worked his magic upon his body. The remainder of his breath was practically sucked from his lips as Thranduil's mouth met his own and finally Elrond allowed himself the pleasure of touching the other, running his fingers through the silken hair at his temples as a curtain of it fell around them.

"You are impossible, Thranduil..." He whispered breathlessly. "Insatiable. Do not ever change."

Elrond was so envious of Thranduil sometimes, the elf who always took what he wanted without a second thought. He could have anything he wished, all he desired, and none would question him. What he did not demand was gifted to him as though he was meant to have it all. Elrond rarely, if ever, asked for anything at all. He had wished for nothing more than a complete family, and when Celebrian had sailed after years of distance and unhappiness that possibility was ripped away from the Peredhel.

"Mnnn.." came Thranduil's suave voice in reply "I will always remain this way for you..." Lower and lower he moved, his hands following as soft thumbs massaged teasing circles around Elrond's nipples, then  pressed a little with his fingers into the muscles of his chest.

"You have such a fine body, mellon nín... And tonight, it is all mine." His tongue laved a warm pattern over Elrond's waist, licking in long, sensual strokes. Soon enough he was beneath the covers and his face disappeared from view, the actions of his talented mouth only left to the imagination and- oh. He did not waste a second and took Elrond all the way into his mouth, sucking him like a vacuum while taking smooth handfuls of the Peredhel's ass. How he moaned and sighed wantonly with every flick of tongue and press of lips, as if he derived the most supreme pleasure by doing this for Elrond. It was almost a hereditary thing; to enjoy the taste of pleasuring another in such a position. For Oropher was fond of it too, and he was wondering how he might rekindle his curious relationship with Gil-Galad as he strode into the King's tent.

"Ereinion!" He announced his arrival with a proud sneer and loud voice "I have sorted out the problem. What do you say to that?"

Gil-galad was sitting down to another glass of wine after having removed his armor. He sat now in richer purple robes, his hair plaited tightly and elaborate against his head, still donning his circlet. He winced slightly as Oropher's voice boomed but inwardly smiled at the familiar presence that his life had been lacking in for far too long. He raised eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, taking a long drink.

 

"Have you, now? Are you certain it was you who truly took care of the issue or your little pet, Legolas? He seemed to have you on his own leash, Oropher."

Though Oropher seemed the type to keep friends and lovers as pets beneath him, it was quite the opposite in truth. He crossed the tent in moments and sat himself in front of Gil-Galad, leaning forth.

"A prince does not leash a King. Unless they are Thranduil, and wrapping you around their little finger." He made slight reference to little Thranduil's bossy and charming nature so many millenia ago, a thing Gil-Galad had fallen for and barely dealt with in all the years he looked after him.

"Everything is sorted. Legolas and Thranduil are off sulking and the people know who to look to."

Gil-galad glanced down at the glass in hand and kept an elegant eyebrow cocked at the King. “And if by ‘everything is sorted’ you mean that you have done well in alienating your entire family from you and humiliating them beyond repair, then yes, I am sure you did just that. Well done.” He drained his glass and looked at Oropher through silver eyes, his lips curved up into the slightest smirk as he applauded the other slowly.

“Another brash and brutal way to deal with those you love. I applaud you, Elvenking. In fact, I would offer you a glass of wine in celebration but I fear you have destroyed the one I gave you earlier…” He nodded to the shattered pieces of glass and dark red stain of wine in his carpeting.

“I was almost hoping that Legolas or Thranduil would have come out supreme for they would at least be more open to discussing strategy and tact with me, of which you seem to still have neither.”

"You're so fucking hard to please." Oropher growled, knowing the Noldo was trying to piss him off and succeeding, as usual. "Damn you, Ereinion. I would think you would want to make it up to me after being such an ass in front of Legolas but no, you are just as constant as ever in your insults. Pah." He looked away then and scowled at nothing, brows dark and emerald eyes turning a muted shade of blue. Deep inside he felt a sincere lack of respect from Gil-Galad every time they clashed with words, and though his first reaction was to get angry and smack a bitch, it was the barely hidden upset in his eyes that betrayed what he felt. The unfeeling elf king, now with 20% more emotions. It bothered him.

Gil-galad chuckled at that and stood slowly, moving to sit himself on the desk in front of Oropher, one long slender leg crossing over the other in a rather magnificent motion. He leaned on one hand and regarded the Woodland King almost casually. He could see it in his eyes, and frankly, the Noldo was surprised.

“And here I thought you loved a good challenge, Oropher. Have you really changed so much after all of these years?” Gil-galad reached out to cup a pale cheek and touched it softly as he smirked at him, leaning in close and leering like a wolf. “Is that upset I see in your eyes? My, my, you have changed, sweetling; for better or worse, I cannot say just yet. I never said that I refused to make it up to you. Your humiliation was your own, but if you play your cards right with me perhaps I can find a way to… make it up to you.” He removed his hand and sat up straight. He leaned back and poured himself another glass of wine.

~~

Thranduil's hands left trails of fire on Elrond's pale chest and he moaned softly as the other elf disappeared beneath the bedsheets. The next movement was not unexpected since Thranduil made it very obvious where he was going to go, but the Peredhel had forgotten how deliciously good Thranduil was at this. His hands, his mouth, his body, everything was just utter _perfection_. Fingers blindly found Thranduil's hair and wove into the silken tresses, gently tugging Thranduil a little closer to his groin, arching his hips the slightest bit to feel the King's throat a little deeper. Eyes fell close as he shuddered heavily.

"Tonight...." He managed softly. "Tonight alone it is yours Thranduil. To do with as you desire."

Thranduil recognised what Elrond wanted from the touches at his head, and delighted in how lovely Elrond's fingers felt in his hair. He took him deeper and angled his head to have the hot shaft halfway down his throat. Elrond was long and slender like most elves, with a bit more thickness than Thranduil who practically had a thin spear between his legs. Made for poking sensitive spots and shredding da booty. His head moved back and forth for long, sweet minutes without breath. Only when he slid away did he gasp for breath, and pop back up to Elrond's face. His cock dragged along the warm body beneath him and his eyelids fluttered at the tantalising sensation.

"Oh, Elrond... I want you to take me so I may feel this for days to come." His voice was a breathy moan and hips swaying from side to side, straddling the wet, hard shaft between his thighs. "Nobody will question if I walk strangely..." he said with a cheeky smirk. Well, Legolas might. Or he would stay distant as usual... But for now there was no worry about the morning. Elrond was a rare gem to couple with and Thranduil definitely wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Elrond was half-elven after all, and therefore possessed the best qualities from both races. He retained the beauty and grace of the elves but his musculature and sexual features were more man than anything else. He was thicker in places elves were not, but no less beautiful. He had nearly come undone as Thranduil had worked between his legs, sucking and teasing to his heart’s content while Elrond struggled not to spill himself deep in the tightness of his throat. It was a matter of mind control and will power that he allowed himself to stay afloat a little longer, and when Thranduil dragged himself up his body Elrond gripped his slender hips firmly, grey eyes dark and heavily-lidded with lust.

“We have many miles yet to walk, Thranduil.” He sat up then and flipped Thranduil down onto his back as he pressed up against the King’s thighs, running his hands from his hips to his knees as he gazed down at him through a curtain of raven-black hair. “I will deem how hard I take you this night. If you end up getting killed because you were too sore to get away from an enemy I would never forgive myself.”

"Like we'll meet any enemies so close to the Grinding Ice. The Men probably don't even know the North exists." said Thranduil as he spread his legs, a finger trailing up the side of his cock and back resting on the sheets. "Still... Whatever pleasure you give me will be absolutely exquisite, if our last encounter is anything to go by."

He began to stroke himself very slowly, the perfect pale expanse of skin that coated his length now lightly flushed pink and moving up and down, inviting and hard. "Oooh...." he moaned, looking up at Elrond with a blissful smile on his face. Having this elf atop him, with warmth and distraction from the coldly humiliating events of an hour ago was exactly the thing he'd needed. Now Thranduil wouldn't have to bother Legolas for his needs - not for a few days, anyway.

Elrond had no desire to speak of the Undead and horrors that awaited them on the other side of the Grinding Ice at this point. He stared down at the breathtaking elf before him and ran his hand down his pale chest and firm abdomen, reaching to cover Thranduil’s hands with his own, helping him stroke slowly. He was as hard as a rock and was pressed firmly against Thranduil’s inner thigh, shivering slightly but not moving his hips. Not yet. He would move on his own accord. It was the last shred of control that remained and he was clinging so desperately to it.

He reached out with his other hand and lightly traced Thranduil’s delicate features, stroking his soft, pink lips and pressing a single knuckle past them. “Wet me. I will minimize your pain as much as possible, meleth nin.”

Thranduil eagerly sucked Elrond's finger and made soft, lewd noises as he did so. Thranduil was sensitive to pain and Elrond knew it, thus requiring a bit of slickness to make everything as pleasurable as it could be. Elrond's other hand upon Thranduil's held skill, control and strength so the Sinda merely let his own hand fall away for Elrond to work at his hard length. He raised his legs a bit and being flexible as he was, pressed his heel to the dip in Elrond's lower back. It moved up then slid down, pressing for more contact between their combined arousal. Thranduil ached for Elrond, and they both teased each other just right. Elrond hissed again as Thranduil sucked his finger, laving it with a tongue that was far too talented for its own good. Withdrawing his finger slowly, he painted Thranduil's lips with the wetness, a thing string of saliva glittering in the firelight as he moved his hand to slick himself.

The Sinda's long legs found themselves around his waist and hips, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him on. Their arousals were sliding past once another as Thranduil shifted his body and moved beneath him and Elrond's breath caught in his throat as his hand got caught up within it all. He shivered heavily and managed to free his hand as they rocked together on the bed for a moment, before, when the Peredhel could wait no longer, found the tender entrance between the King's legs and sheathed himself slowly and carefully, watching Thranduil's face for any sign at all of pain. He would not hurt the King this night, not now, not ever.

"Aaaaahhnnnnn.." Thranduil let out a long, heavy moan as Elrond sheathed himself in the perfect tightness of his ass. He'd been stretched a bit two days ago, and though his body usually healed skin elasticity and muscle clenching abilities, there was just enough room for Elrond to thrust comfortably. Thranduil briefly wondered what he might say if he knew Legolas had loosened him up then. His face displayed no pain and with his arms spread in a dramatic, graceful pose he looked into Elrond's eyes. There was silent consent and a plea for movement in his dark blue-green gaze. And he accepted the fact that Elrond would set the pace - Thranduil didn't try to force anything. It had been months since Elrond had taken another so everything about Thranduil was impossibly tight and utterly perfect. He pressed in until he was fully sheathed, letting out a soft gasp of breath, reaching down to tight his hands around Thranduil's slender waist. He pressed a palm at the small of Thranduil's back, lifting in slightly as he began to rock his hips, sliding in and out smoothly while still savoring the pressure and clenching muscles that the Elvenking possessed.

He began slow, his hips rocking almost carefully as he allowed his own pleasure to build long and slow. Despite what Thranduil had said, he was not so certain how many times they would have when this was all said and done. Thranduil would survive this, that he knew, but how changed he would be as a result had yet to be determined. He gazed down at the beautiful creature beneath him, one who had been through so much, and one who would continue to endure as he always had, and savored the Thranduil he knew now, in this moment. Perfect, beautiful Thranduil. His movements sped slightly and he reached down to close one hand gently around his cock, stroking it lovingly and in succession.

It was amazing to Elrond, that he could think so deeply now even when he was seated deep within one of the most beautiful creatures in all of Arda. It was both his blessing and his curse.

Thranduil moaned sweetly with the slick, relaxing pace of Elrond's length comfortably sliding in and out of him. He absolutely loved the girth of it as the thickness near the base pushed him wider at the deepest thrusts, and teased his nerves on the way out.

"Ai, _Elrond_...." he mewled, arching up as the hand under his back suggested and spreading his legs wider. Doing that made him feel a thousand times more seductive, like a wanton creature who would part with the most intimate feelings just for their lover this night. At the hand closing around his cock he groaned, eyelashes fluttering up in a dramatic dark sweep. Dark turquoise eyes stared straight into Elrond's and in that moment Thranduil felt a connect, something deep and true between them both. It sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine and he bucked into Elrond's hand, inadvertently spasming inside around the thick length. This was how he liked it. Slow and sensual, intimate and secure. Even though they were just friends, he felt truly loved as they coupled in blissful unison. Elrond had that particular effect on him... as did one or two others.

As their eyes met, Thranduil's gaze two pools of turquoise ocean one could get lost in forever, Elrond wondered, as he did time and time again when he looked upon the Sinda, how no one had yet claimed this beautiful creature. He was fully aware that Thranduil had never performed true bonding rites with his wife as he never had with Celebrian. Thranduil was a free spirit however, giving his love to those he chose, and Elrond respected that in the other elf. He was certainly too beautiful and independent for any to lay a permanent claim. It was not often that bonded elves shared their bodies with others who were not their mates. Elrond counted his blessings, however, knowing he was very lucky to see Thranduil as he did now. He had known the King for several millennia, had been at his side during some of his darkest hours. He would not abandon him no matter what.

He pressed in deep, and as Thranduil allowed him even greater access to the depths of his body, Elrond felt his own muscles twitch and shudder as he changed the angle of his thrusts, moving evenly, smoothly, with each gentle rock of his hips. He changed the angle of each thrust, watching Thranduil through heavily lidded eyes as he claimed his lips, seeking that little bundle of nerves that would cause Thranduil to shout for him. He sought to take his sweet time, however, focused solely on the sensations for their both, the deepened connection he felt when they were joined in this way, the way Thranduil tightened and clenched rhythmically around him and how his hips rocked upwards with each thrust.

This was true bliss, and sheer pleasure that Elrond rarely allowed himself. Tonight was theirs.

Thranduil's voice pitched higher as Elrond thrust right into his sweet spot and he shivered, begging softly for more between gasping breaths. He didn't want anyone to know what was going on in their tent and kept his voice as low as he could. But Thranduil wasn't quiet during sex by nature... And as he lost control, he gave a sharp cry even the winds outside couldn't muffle. He spilled himself between them and shuddered around Elrond's length, the feeling of such deep companionship and care driving him to an immediate state of everlasting bliss. Elrond was soon pulled into a tight embrace, for Thranduil wished to be consumed by the heat of their joined bodies like never before. Slight spasms rippled through him now and then, keeping him constantly aroused despite the lack of movement.

Elrond was quiet and stoic in his passion, though his eyes darkened as darker lashes fluttered, breath hitching slightly as Thranduil reached his peak around him, shuddering as he spilled himself between their bodies. He was pulled in close almost immediately, Thranduil's release between their bellies serving to glue them both together in a way. He came, hard, deep within his lover, marking him deep within and pulsating against that little sweet spot deep inside his body. He saw stars behind closed eyelids and he practically collapsed atop the Sinda, breathing heavily as he buried his face in Thranduil's neck, inhaling his naturally sweet scent that was unique to him.

"You will be the death of me, mellon nin..." He breathed heavily, slowly rolling off the King and pulling him into his arms, flush against his own body.

Thranduil merely groaned in response and relaxed into his surroundings. The bed felt softer, Elrond's touch was just as lovely as it had always been and there was nowhere more comfortable Thranduil could think of.

They lay together like that for long, sweet minutes that stretched into hours for Thranduil who fell asleep, his entire face calm and pleased with the pink tint to his cheeks slowly fading. He did not know what to call his relationship with Elrond when it evoked so many feelings within him, and what it made him crave. But whatever it was it was good, and he wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

Elrond lay awake as the hours passed, cradling Thranduil in his arms and keeping his face buried in his silken hair. He thought on what happened, the past, and what would soon come to pass. Even now, in the blissful period following their lovemaking, Elrond fought a battle in his own mind of what to tell Thranduil. Would he hurt him if he told him too much? Or would keeping secrets from him to avoid heartache hurt him even more deeply?

He closed his eyes, his brow falling into its natural furrowed, thoughtful state. Only time would tell. He would not be hasty. He could not. For what if he was wrong? Wrong about all of this?

~

Oropher was silent for a moment. Perhaps he had said too much, like he often did when speaking freely. He could never stay mad at Gil-Galad for long, however. The High King had Oropher a complete mess with just a few touches and strategically spoken words.

"I have not changed." he said tersely. There was no further explanation that he wished to give - it was not the time to speak of the things he had foreseen, of his dalliance with Legolas, of how terribly he wished to hold Thranduil in his arms and have everything be well again.

His gaze traveled from Gil-Galad's face to his body, cloaked in fine purple clearly denoting his royal status. He was both fancy and subtle at once, just letting his magnificence sink into the setting around them. He kept his face stoic as his eyes went a little lower, trying to remember what the Noldo looked like without clothes, the last time he had seen him. The image was rather pleasant - but he wished to refresh his memory. Just a little.

Gil-Galas felt Oropher's gaze travel down his body before meeting his eyes again. He smiled, grey eyes glinting in the dim light of his tent. "Perhaps you have not, Oropher. I can still read you like a book." Or as well as one could an elf who kept nearly all emotions buried deep beneath a thick layer of ice. He knew what Oropher was looking for and Gil-galad reached up to teasingly unbutton a few buttons upon his tunic, baring pale glowing flesh beneath the fabric.

"Your eyes tell me that they have missed someone one, or rather some _thing_." He slid slowly from the desk and leaned in very close to Oropher, not touching him. But the other elf could feel his breath at this distance, hot and sweet, smelling of wine. "When was the last time you allowed another to have you as I once have?"

Oropher stilled, his arousal growing at the glimpse of skin his eyes caught. He wasn't about to tell Gil-Galad the truth of his last encounter, and replied "I have taken no other for three thousand years." It had been an entire age since the two ancient elves had laid hands upon each other's bodies. Oropher intended to keep Gil-Galad believing in just that. And when he lied, he was near impossible to read. Nobody had caught him on his bullshit before. Ever.

"I would have you tonight, Ereinion.." he growled, the heat of both voice and body melting his icy walls. Normally he would show more restraint, be hesitant as he always was when touching people. But those lips were too close, and resistance was futile. Oropher pressed his lips to Gil-Galad's and dragged his teeth slowly along the bottom lip, before licking a little to taste sweet wine on his tongue. He was asking for permission as he always did, for in relationships he did not seek to dominate or enforce at all. It was a thing of equality and respect, and above all, love.

"Gods." Gil-galad whispered softly with a smile. "Three thousand years is quite a time to go without. Even for a King and one so practiced as yourself." He wondered how much control Oropher truly had, or if he was telling the truth at all. The other had control beyond measure however, so it was not impossible, and that meant that this interaction would prove interesting indeed.

He groaned the softest bit as Oropher closed the distance between them, dragging teeth over his lower lip, tasting him, gently, asking for permission as he always did. Gil-galad took, more often than not, though there had always been an unspoken consent between the two. He knew how deeply Oropher craved him, and he loved watching the beautiful elf with hair of snow bend to his will, bend to the Noldor he seemed to hate so deeply. Not Gil-galad, he did not hate him, but there was always a delicious tension between them when they were not in bed together, and the Noldo almost always sought the upper hand in the bedroom. He was organized and strategized even in this place where many threw caution to the wind. Every touch and movement was carefully calculated, every sound from the other carefully extracted. It was a test of will and control, even here.

When they pulled back Gil-galad smiled and his voice was a deep purr as he swiped his thumb over Oropher's lower lip, bringing it up to his own for a taste as their eyes remained locked. "Is that a demand or a question, lover?"

"When have I ever questioned?" asked Oropher, knowing his own behaviour was incredibly demanding in an almost childish way. "I have waited for you. I want you. And you owe it to me this night..." Slowly he rose and encircled his strong arms around Gil-Galad's waist, feeling the Noldo's body alike his own in that it was built to fight and endure. One of the reasons he respected the High King like nobody else was how much of a seasoned warrior he was, compared to every other elf Oropher knew. His hands could hold any weapon and decimate legions of orcs, but renown was he for his skill with a spear and absolute domination in battle. Oropher didn't mind being skewered by him either, for what the songs said about his sharp sword and keen lance struck true for his brutally fierce bedroom habits.

Oropher was drawn from his own thoughts about the one before him by the feeling of a hardness between his legs. Oh. When had he climbed into Gil-Galad's lap and pressed their bodies up so close, they could have melted into each other? His own raging arousal pressed into his clenched abdominal muscles, and he realised he was tense. Inwardly he knew the marks on his body hadn't faded; they were still proudly screaming across his pale flesh like war paint on a manic soldier. He said nothing as their foreheads touched, Oropher just barely poking Gil-Galad with his angular nose. A deep, breathy sigh came from said nose as he didn't want to open his mouth lest a secret slip out. Keeping his thin lips pursed was the best way he could hide troubling thoughts from poking their way into the world.

He awaited Gil-Galad's first move.

Gil-galad of course knew how badly Oropher wanted him. Their relationship was deeply sexual and carnal, mostly so from Gil-galad's end, though of course there was care for the other there. Ereinion had never taken a mate of his own, but he found something challenging in Oropher that moved him, and the other elf was a drug he kept coming back for. That the Sinda King would allow himself to be so dominated by the Noldo was arousing beyond measure, and it gave him unspeakable pleasure to know the effect he had on the other elf.

He reached to wrap strong arms around Oropher's waist and caught his mouth again, kissing him hungrily before he pulled back. "I owe you? No, my dear Oropher. It is you who owe me for making me wait so long. Undress. I wish to see you as I remember you."

His eyes raked over Oropher's clothed form and he ran his hands over the other's broad chest.

"Now." He left no room for argument. There would be none this night.

Oropher did not plan to argue with the elf before him, who seemed intent on letting their old relationship fall into place, just how it was meant to be. He obeyed, undoing the clasps of his black tunic and letting it fall away from his body without hesitation. Once his arms were free, his entire body was revealed in its pale, scarred glory. Recent marks and bite marks included. But as he undressed, he pressed his body closer to Gil-Galad's so that the majority of his form could not be seen. He captured the Noldo in a passionate kiss, hoping to distract him from the body he wanted to see. Hands at the waist and legs slightly parted, Oropher busied himself with the feel and taste of his lover. He could only imagine the punishment that would come when certain things were discovered...

The candlelight cast shadows on the walls of Gil-galad's tent and his body as a result, and Oropher was swift to move in for a kiss. Gil-galad could not deny his lover and reached for his jaw, pulling it close so that he could taste him more thoroughly. He ran his fingertips down his chest, up his back, and to his neck as he pressed his own hips upwards, grinding against Oropher.

"Get on the bed." He growled softly, his grey eyes dark as molten steel.

Gil-galad reached down to press his hand against his own arousal, straining against breeches that were already far too tight. This was not going to last as long tonight as he wished it. He would be certain that this would not be their only night together. It couldn't be, now that they were back in each other's presence again.

"I want to see all of you."

Oropher sighed and spread himself on the bed, baring his entire nude form. As if to say, "Here I am, take a look..." he even bared his neck which still hadn't healed its skin. He could see Gil-Galad touching himself a little and the sight of that was one he was particularly fond of- as Oropher wriggled out of his own breeches and forced his boots off there was a stiff erection proudly raised for the night's events.

Gil-galad's hungry gaze moved slowly up Oropher's bare, pale body, flesh nearly as white as his hair, appreciatively over the firm erection that stood aching between his thighs, to the discoloration of light bruises and... indentations all over his fair form. He cocked an eyebrow then and swept over to the bed to stand at the foot, and with a dramatic sweep his dark cloak fell to the floor, his eyes flashing for a moment.

Within another moment, Gil-galad, fully clothed, was between Oropher's thighs as his hands moved up his body to take his jaw in firm yet gentle fingers, tilting his head to the side to observe a rather angry wound upon his neck that had hardly healed. It was deep, so it was difficult to tell how fresh it was. His nostrils flared and his mouth was very close to Oropher's ear.

"I am very curious now, to as how you have not healed in these _three thousand years_ that we have not joined together. Also, I would remember doing something this..." He glanced at the wound again. "Vicious to you."

Gil-galad reached down for Oropher's cock, stretching a bit lower to grab the heavy sack there, squeezing firmly but not painfully, so that the Sinda realized who exactly was in control. "You do not hide them. I suppose you will tell me know that a pack of wargs got you and tore at you thus? Go on, Oropher. Lie to me. Tell me what you think I wish to hear and perhaps I shall go easy on you tonight."

Oropher did not say a word, even as Gil-Galad gripped him with his hand. His breathing changed just a little and was a tad more shallow, face as stoic as he could possibly make it. Very gently he nuzzled Gil-Galad with his nose, turning his head to be face to face with the Noldo beside him. Oropher thought to read him.

Gil-Galad seemed both curious and displeased, possibly thinking Oropher unfaithful or a liar.

 _'I'm not a liar..'_ Oropher rationalised, _'I said I had taken no-one. I did not take Legolas. He ravaged me that night and drilled into my ass.'_ At the memory, he wriggled his hips just a little to massage himself into Gil-Galad's grip. His eyes stayed open but they darkened, and it was then that his arousal could be seen as something he was willing to serve this night. The truth wasn't what he wanted to pursue. He wanted DICK.

Oropher said nothing verbally, and that was to be expected. Because every word from his lips would have been false and they both knew it. So he remained silent, neither admitting Gil-galad's statement as being truthful or denying it. Either way, it was answer enough for the Noldo. Either way, he sought to remind Oropher of where he belonged, and who he belonged _to_. "Should I find who did this to you, they shall be thoroughly questioned." Gil-galad's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, his fingers tightening to prevent Oropher's movement as he sought to seek out some pleasure and some friction from his hand.

"Though something tells me you were more than willing to take part in this little act, whatever may have happened. Or perhaps, if you did not, they died at your hand." Oropher could be a ruthless killer and Gil-galad knew that well. He was competent and a furious warrior. None would stand a chance against Oropher, touching him thus. It had taken quite some time for him to allow even Gil-galad close enough.

"But it is no matter." He released his grip suddenly and began to unlace his leggings, pulling himself from them. He remained fully clothed, another exertion of dominance as he looked down at Oropher with a smirk as he stroked himself with long and languid movements.

"Any last words before I have my way with you?"

Oropher shook his head, and watched with hidden excitement as Gil-Galad stroked his length. Oh, he could not wait for the slight tension to break and for that spear to be thrust inside him! It wasn't like he would ask, for it embarrassed and almost demeaned him to do so. Unless he was with Legolas. There, it was just play... there were no old dynamics involved.

It was nice to ease into the familiar motions of their ancient relationship, however. Oropher knew his place here and it was beneath Gil-Galad. They may clash with words and maybe even swords in public, but here they were secret lovers with behaviours unlike anything else.

"May I turn over?" he asked abruptly, wishing to bury his face in the pillows to at least hold some dignity this night. How much of himself he revealed changed depending on how he was feeling, even though he wasn't 'supposed' to really 'feel' at all.

 

If he looked into Gil-Galad's eyes, he would see something that would screw his mind over.

Oropher's request was not unusual, and despite everything that was between them, their unorthodox and oftentimes strange bedroom behaviors not withstanding, Gil-galad did respect the other elf and his desires. He nodded and sat back on his heels to allowed the other elf the time to do so.

He knew Oropher was often not open with feelings at all, and Gil-galad often kept his just below the surface and one could see them bubbling if they looked him in the eyes and knew how to read them. It was best if no one was looked in the eye this night, for Gil-galad was certain he would lose it.

He ran one finger lightly over the raw flesh of Oropher's neck as the other began to shift.

"You may.”

Oropher flipped himself over and presented his ass to Gil-Galad, the hidden ring of muscle still a little bruised and tender from its treatment a few days ago. If elves could shit, he would have lost his entire lower intestine by now.

He grunted at the touch to his neck and tossed his hair to cover it, not wishing Gil-Galad to bear witness to the mark of passion that had not been made by him. He was completely nude and felt Gil-Galad's robes brush against his skin - it enticed him to know he was being used for his lover's pleasure at the other's whim, not for his own at all. And he was owned, loved, treasured. Or at least that was what he liked to feel. What he told himself.

Gil-galad's hands mapped out Oropher's body, running his nails lightly along the marks upon the Sinda's back, the thin red lines that were angry and upraised in nature against pale skin. He found the light bruises upon his hips where he was held and traced them, placing his hands over them for a moment. The marks belonged to hands slightly smaller than his own. He pressed in gently, enough so that Oropher could feel the dull ache from them before taking himself in hand and pressing his cock up against the firm cheeks of his lover's ass.

He tapped himself lightly against Oropher's left cheek and smirked down at him. The bruises and tender parts of Oropher's body spanned far and wide, and the place he was going to insert himself was no exception. "I daresay I shall rip you apart if I press into you thus. Perhaps your mouth is a better place for me tonight, unless your throat is fucked as raw as the rest of you."

Oropher knew he could please Gil-Galad well with his mouth, and clenched his ass muscles together.

"I have not tasted you down my throat in so long. It would be my pleasure to let you... Ahh, you know." He arched his back and turned his head, peering at Gil-Galad through the snowy expanse of his hair.

"Tell me how you want me."

Oropher licked his lips as he thought of what he would do, his favourite techniques and the taste he could almost smell on the air as Gil-Galad had himself in hand. By the Valar, he was hungry for it. The delicious sweetness tinting something meaty and unique... He couldn't describe it. But it was what he wanted. Everywhere.

Gil-galad would not deny either of them this pleasure as he moved on the bed to knee before Oropher's face, reaching to stroke the thick hard rod of flesh between his thighs, his eyes somewhat veiled by some loose locks of dark hair. Oropher's offering was too sweet to resist, after all. He shivered lightly as he nodded to the side of the bed.

"On the floor. On your knees." He purred softly, shifting so that he stood tall before the other. Oropher's body was made for him to pleasure Gil-galad thus. In that position he was at the perfect height to take him in as deep as the Noldo would ask to go. "Remind me of your skill and why I keep you around for these things."

Oropher nodded and shifted to slide off the bed, onto the floor with his hair piling up around him to cover the back of his legs. Kneeling didn't hurt at all but it was the furthest position of submission he would ever go to, and only for Gil-Galad. He would die of shame and anger if he did this for anyone else.

His hands clutched Gil-Galad's thighs quite hard and instantly relaxed, Oropher remembering he had to be gentle with this elf. If he hurt Gil-Galad, it was all over for them both. Controlled and silent, he pressed his moist lips to the Noldo's erection, slowly pushing his tongue through the slit and remembering the exact anatomy of this part of his lover. Ah, he had explored so well this particular area that he would probably be able to sculpt it from clay, inside and out. He unhinged his jaw just in case Gil-Galad decided to thrust with enough force to break him, and his throat relaxed too. 

It was a matter of status and dominance in the bedroom in addition to before the eyes of others. Oropher was perfect in this position and it had taken Gil-Galad years and years of gentle coaxing to get Oropher down before him. He was proud, and kneeling before another King, especially a Noldo, was unheard of. But his lover did so for him willingly now and Gil-galad truly could not ask for much else; it did not mean that he didn't try every now and again, however.

He reached to place his hand in the soft white hair, allowing the silken strands to pour from his fingers before finding a gentle yet firm grip. It was to control him but at the same time have something to hold onto for support because one thing that Gil-galad did not forget about his lover was that he was talented with his mouth above all else. A small gasp was expelled from his lips as Oropher teased and tasted him slowly. He knew just how Gil-galad preferred it and he pressed himself against that talented tongue, pushing deep into the tight heat as he moaned Oropher's name beneath his breath. He pulled out fully before pressing in again, a little more shallow this time. Oropher knew to relax himself, to mind his teeth for he would have hell to pay if he used him. He could never truly trust the Sindar elves and their teeth. They had the nasty habit of sometimes biting things they should not.

"Gods, you are better than I remembered..."

Oropher merely groaned and took Gil-Galad in deeper, swiping his tongue all around in long, pressing licks. His lips closed around the hard shaft that went all the way to the back of his throat, a proper elven length that Oropher honestly couldn't get enough of. His hands shamelessly groped at his lover's ass, taking firm handfuls and pushing a little so he could practically inhale Gil-Galad's cock.

"Mmmmnngghh..." He could hold his breath for a reasonable amount of time and usually finished off Gil-Galad fairly quickly. Today however he wished to spend hours reacquainting himself with the elf's body through use of his tongue, since it was one of the only parts he still had acute sensation in. It was one reason why he preferred touches to his ears, mouth or inside his ass. Everywhere else was hardened and unfeeling - one would have to flay him to pieces to get him feeling much. Or take a bite out of his shoulder. That worked too.

Gil-galad's hands tightened in Oropher's hair, twisting it around his fingers like a rope and pulling the other elf against his groin. He pressed in impossibly deep and Oropher was skilled enough so that he didn't choke. A lesser elf would not have made it this long, as Gil-galad could occasionally handle his lovers rather roughly. He knew that it took a great deal to get Oropher to feel any sensations at all, and he was the reason Gil-galad's harsher treatment spanned to encompass many of his other lovers as well. But Oropher had always been the only one who could read his desires properly and gave in without asking oftentimes.

And Gil-galad knew that he wouldn't last too long tonight. Oropher was too good at this, his mouth was too hot, his throat was too tight, and the eagerness with which he sucked was enough to send the Noldo over the edge. He pulled out so the head of his cock rested just past those wicked lips and he thrust lightly several times before filling his mouth with his seed. He wanted to make sure Oropher could taste him.

"Fuck!" came a rather un-elvish and unkingly response as he shuddered heavily.

Oropher tasted Gil-Galad on his tongue and flicked it up as he swallowed, eyes closed as if he had just taken a mouthful of the world's most delicious ice cream. He was achingly hard himself but would not touch without his lover's permission - he felt like a commoner asking the High King for a favour! With a breathy sigh he pulled back then nuzzled his face to Gil-Galad's crotch, the scent and warmth so familiar he could get completely lost in it. This was one sensation he couldn't simulate within his mind - only Gil-Galad could offer this to him. His hands slid down until they rested on the bed behind Gil-Galad, and he stayed close for as long as he could.

Oropher had made certain not to waste a single drop, and when he was through, Gil-galad sat back on the bed, pulling the Sinda's head along with him. He ran his fingers carefully over his ears as he got his bearings again. He knew he left Oropher hard and aching; he had only allowed him his release in time with his own once. It had been explosive and the earth had felt as though it was shattering beneath both of them. But Gil-galad was certainly not a cruel elf and as he looked down at Oropher he smiled at him.

"Now... your turn. I wish to watch you as you pleasure yourself and think of me."

Oropher's large hand dove between his firm thighs, taking a good hold on his cock and beginning to jerk it roughly. His face nuzzled further into Gil-Galad's crotch, and his mind wandered far.

Oropher had never fucked his lover. It was something of a silent denial between them, something that would never happen. He did not want to hurt Gil-Galad but sometimes wondered what it would feel like to sheathe himself in that gorgeous ass. He tried to imagine it and found he could not - the image wouldn't form and he groaned softly in frustration. As he bucked his hips however something materialised in his mind - Legolas was young and flexible, perhaps he could take such a thick length, pounding his slender body into whatever surface was available, sweet cries filling his ears...

It was a good thing Oropher by default did not call his lover's names during moments of such intimacy. He and his family would surely have been screwed by now.

"Mmmmm..." his lips were pursed and face concentrated, Gil-Galad's body and scent mixing with the rapidly changing image in his mind.

"Yes," He purred softly. "That's very good, Oropher..."

Gil-gilad watched through a dark, heavy gaze as Oropher stroked himself almost violently upon his command. Oropher had always been deliciously rough with himself, likely to allow himself some small measure of feeling in addition to him just being of a rather violent nature. It fascinated the Noldo and he rested a slender, pale hand in the Sinda’s long, snow-white locks of silken hair, stroking his scalp.

He shivered lightly as he felt heavy breathing and soft sounds coming from Oropher between his thighs and he spread them a bit wider to allow the other better access. He felt himself begin to respond again to the moment and he reached down to hastily tuck himself away before he lost control again. If only he could see Oropher's thoughts, for the Noldo King was most convinced that he _himself_ was being fantasized about so vigorously as Oropher stroked his cock. He knew Oropher had always wanted to sheathe himself deep within his body and lay claim to it as Gil-galad had done to him time and time again. But it was off-limits and that was an unspoken agreement. He would never allow Oropher or any other, for that matter, to have him thus.

Gil-gilad would always retain the upper hand and Oropher would always have his place beneath him. It was the way of things.

And it was the way things would always be. Gil-gilad would go to great lengths to ensure that.

When Oropher reached his climax it was to the final image of Gil-Galad stroking his hair gently and from behind, with Legolas in front begging for more of Oropher's cock. They both wanted him, they both loved him. And damn, he got off on it so fast he barely knew what was happening until he looked down and saw his entire lower body covered in white.

With a quiet sigh he rested his cheek on Gil-Galad's thigh and looked up at him, eyes half lidded and face placid. He said nothing, but looked quite content and perhaps thankful of Gil-Galad of having offered him this. In his mind he had been touched, teased, looked after instead of having to work on himself. In reality... Well, that was a little further. Still, Oropher treasured what the Noldo king could give him and closed his eyes. Even though he still knelt and was an absolute mess.

Oropher was quick to finish himself, but it was a beautiful sight for the Noldo, watching the King beneath him arch, all muscles tensing as he found his release in near silence. He was controlled even now as Gil-galad continued to stroke his lover's hair as his head rested upon his lap. The dark-haired elf smiled down at this before taking Oropher’s chin in his fingers and tilting his face upwards. He reached for a cloth that was laying near the bed and offered it to him.

"Clean yourself up. You may sleep here with me tonight if you wish. If not, I fear you shall have to go seek your own out in the cold."

Oropher looked at the cloth Gil-Galad handed him and thought briefly if he could ever ask the High King to lick him clean. He banished the idea just as he took the cloth and cleaned himself, a distant look in his eyes.

"I would sleep with you this night." said Oropher quietly "Though I hope nobody finds out." He set the cloth on the table nearby and slid like a snake onto the bed beside Gil-Galad. His arms and legs wrapped around the elf's body, creamy white skin against slightly glowing tan. They were so different yet somehow, worked together in their relationship just fine.

At least, it had always been that way. Until Oropher started wanting more.

Gil-galad smiled and wrapped his arms around Oropher, pressing his lover's body close to his own. He still remained fully clothed, even in sleep. He would be ready to go at morning's light and need more than a moment's notice beforehand. He buried his face into Oropher's soft white locks and inhaled deeply, feeling thoroughly sated.

"Mmm," He moaned quietly, a deep, guttural sound coming from his throat. "You should have thought about that before you agreed to all of this. Those who heard would not dare say anything. Your own people are not in this cave if you are concerned about their knowing."

He pulled the thick sheets around them both, and even in this tent as the candlelight continued to die, his breath condensed on the cold night air. "What you should be more concerned about is what shall happen when I find the one who gave you those marks, Oropher."

It was a statement, with an underlying threat. Gil-galad was terribly possessive and had found himself overly so of Oropher for one reason or another. The Noldo King could have anyone and everyone he desired, but he found himself craving Oropher above all else. He seemed to sate the basest needs for him without question, and very few were willing to do that with little in return.

"You'll never find him.." Oropher mumbled, knowing he wasn't going to sleep tonight for his thoughts would be with Legolas. Was that... Fear he felt? It was something very unknown and relatively new for him. But vaguely, he felt it. He was concerned for his grandson's life.

His face pressed into Gil-Galad's neck and quietly he sighed, eyes shut and brow furrowed. The High King was damned possessive, and sometimes not in a good way. Oropher thought himself free, strong and not owned by anyone, not bound to Gil-Galad but always able to indulge in their secret relationship. He went to Gil-Galad to feel loved and needed, even if it meant Gil-Galad was just using him for his own needs. Nowadays he'd begun to think if Legolas could ever possibly offer him more. Something deeper... Something like what Oropher had felt for his wife. His wife, who he'd never bonded to and shared in his fierce capability for hatred. Oropher was silent that night and occupied entirely with thoughts far away from the one he slept with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An introduction of sorts to Ereinipher and some tasty tasty Elronduil :D

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant Character Designations:  
> Me: Thranduil  
> Partner: Legolas  
> Both: Various NPCs  
> Location Reference: www.doitsuki.tumblr.com/mirkwood [Thranduil's room, the palace, his halls]  
> Headcanons for the House of Oropher: www.doitsuki.tumblr.com/houseoforopher  
> Ages:  
> Legolas: 4421 [TA 3021]  
> Thranduil: Between 6200 and 6800  
> [pls scroll down and read disclaimer on my profile](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/profile)  
> ~pls dont flame lol~


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